


The Fortune Teller

by Arianna



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianna/pseuds/Arianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Shaman's Journey series. Jim and Blair have to fight a formidable enemy who is intent on corrupting Blair's fledgling shamanic abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fortune Teller

 

 **THE FORTUNE TELLER**

 _by Arianna_

 _Artwork by Rhianne  
Beta by Bluewolf and StarWatcher_

**

Glittering diamonds, lilting laughter, precious silk fashioned into exquisite gowns and impeccably tailored suits, thousands of richly shod feet echoing on marble, ice clinking against crystal: the elite of San Francisco’s society mingled in the lofty foyer, or flirted in the shadows behind the massive Corinthian columns that were hallmarks of the grand Opera House.

A drink cradled in one hand, Maxim LaForce leaned with casual elegance against a column near the center of the hall, watching the crowd, amused by the posturing. He’d passed his fortieth birthday some years before, but there was little gray in his roguishly-styled, straight, dark hair, except for the distinguished silver wings that swept back from his temples. His brow was broad; sharp intelligence and an abundance of self-confidence lit his striking black eyes and, when he smiled, his generous lips showed a flash of startling white against the burnished bronze of his skin. Though not particularly tall, his well-proportioned, muscular body conveyed strength and boundless energy. LaForce, very deliberately, projected an aura of mystery, power and seductive danger that appealed to women and intrigued men.

Taking a sip of the rich, smoky amber whiskey, savoring it on his tongue, he glanced up at the brilliant chandeliers and reflected upon how very much he enjoyed the good life of wealth and independence. San Francisco certainly had its attractions, and he was almost sorry that his work there was nearly done. But it was time to move on. Recently, he’d received an invitation from a leading citizen of a city further north along the coast. While the invitation itself held no special allure, the city was one he’d been thinking of visiting for some time. There was an intriguing possibility there, one that made him smile at the idea of the challenge it might present. Success came so easily with scarcely any effort, and life had become tedious; it had been far too long since he’d felt his blood heat with the promise of excitement, even of danger.

Just then, he spotted the other members of his party, two clients and their wives, and set his not-yet-empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. He moved gracefully through the throng to greet them, suavely accepting their gratitude for the tickets that had been a gift from him. Merely a way of saying ‘thank you’ for their patronage, amongst other things, he assured them as he shook hands with the men, well-fed and self-satisfied giants on the Fortune Five Hundred list, and kissed the powdered cheeks of their beautiful trophy wives. His contempt for them veiled along with the boredom he felt in their company, he entertained them with tales of his world travels until the discreet gong sounded. After guiding them to the box they’d be sharing for that evening’s performance of Carmen, he led the way inside and took the corner seat in the front row, furthest from the exit. Leaning back in the velvet-covered seat, he glanced around the stunning theatre, with its coffered ceiling and luxurious appointments, and leafed through the program of the opera that had received excellent reviews.

The lights went down. Shortly thereafter, Maxim LaForce settled more comfortably in his seat and closed his eyes, as if asleep. It was so dark in the box that, with his face turned toward the stage, none of his guests even noticed.

**

Jamieson Kendall, a portly, balding man in his late middle-age, sat behind his desk in the study of his elegant mansion perched over San Francisco Bay. The French windows that overlooked the gardens and the view of the bay were partially open to the mild, early spring evening. A slight breeze riffled the gauzy curtains at the narrow windows on either side of the bookcases behind the desk.

Kendall was smiling with fulsome satisfaction as he reviewed the signed contracts for the merger – well, corporate takeover – he’d accomplished earlier that day. Very pleased, he slid the documents back into their folder and thought with considerable gratitude about the man who had helped make it all possible. He’d been skeptical about Maxim LaForce’s powers in the beginning; who wouldn’t be? Most psychics were, undoubtedly, charlatans. But LaForce was as good as the man’s other clients attested. For months, he’d been advising Kendall, and his advice had led to such bountiful profits that Kendall had changed his will just the week before, to leave LaForce the lion’s share of his estate. Well, why not? After all, despite the stiff percentage of profits he took as a silent partner in the deals, the man had certainly earned every dime of his fees, and there was no one else, just charities and a few old friends to remember as well. LaForce had been charming in his gratitude for the consideration.

He was reaching for the lamp on the corner of his desk, to turn it off, when he felt an icy draft. Shivering, he went to the French doors to close them – and didn’t hear the desk drawer, where he kept his handgun, opening.

When he turned, he started in surprise. “You!” he exclaimed, “I thought you were …”

His voice faltered when he noticed the weapon pointing at him.

“What’s going on here?” Kendall demanded in confusion, not yet alarmed. “Is there some trouble?” He tried to step forward, only to discover he was, quite literally, frozen in place. Bewilderment bled into fear in his eyes as he struggled in vain to move, to stop what was happening. But he could do nothing but watch the intruder smile with cold, malicious contempt as the man paced toward him. “Don’t, please,” Kendall begged, his eyes widening in terror when he felt the snout of the revolver pressed against his temple. “NO!” he wailed when he heard the pistol cock, less a protest than a plea for mercy.

The weapon exploded and he dropped like a stone. The pistol was placed in his hand.

The curtains wafted on the breeze and the intruder vanished like smoke in the wind, leaving no trace of his presence.

**

Maxim LaForce blinked, straightened in his seat, and smiled with cool satisfaction. When the curtain came down at intermission, he added his effusive comments about the excellence of the performance to those made by his companions as they stood to seek refreshment.

**

“Ellison, Sandburg, my office!” Simon called as he strode through the bullpen, a thunderous expression on his face.

“Oh, he doesn’t look happy,” Blair observed warily as he stood to follow his partner into the inner sanctum. “Did you do something wrong?”

“Me?” Jim retorted. “Of course not. It’s probably indigestion from his lunch with the Mayor and the Commissioner.”

“Right,” Blair agreed; by then they were walking through the doorway. Blair perched on the edge of the conference table and, after he’d closed the door, Jim sat in a nearby chair. They both gave their boss an expectant look.

Simon turned from hanging his overcoat on the stand behind his desk and sighed heavily when he faced them. “You’re not going to like this,” he warned as he sat down. “But suck it up. It’ll only be one night.”

Jim cocked a brow and Blair narrowed his eyes. “What is it we’re not going to like?” Blair asked, more curious than worried.

“Security detail at a shindig the Commissioner is holding tomorrow night on his estate,” Simon told them and held up his hands at the instant expressions of resistance on their faces. “He’s apparently invited the crème de la crème of Cascade’s high society and business community, the richest of the rich, and he wants his best team to ensure there are no, uh, incidents. He’s expecting you at seven PM sharp.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Jim groaned, slumping in his chair. “Simon, this is ridiculous, a blatant abuse of his position.”

“And your point is?” Banks shot back, disgruntled. Grimacing with wordless apology, he shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it. But I’ve seen the guest list, so maybe just consider it a chance to catch up with your father and brother during what will probably be a moderately amusing evening.”

“Amusing?” Blair echoed skeptically. He enjoyed cocktail parties when there was a chance to mingle with the guests, learn something about them and exchange stories. But standing around, wasting their time, making like over-dressed rentacops for the night would just be seriously annoying. Beyond annoying, given it was _supposed_ to be their weekend off.

Rolling his eyes, Simon leaned over the desk toward them and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “You aren’t going to believe this, but the Commish is hosting this little soirée to introduce some fortune teller to his buddies in the corporate world.”

“Fortune teller?” Jim responded, his tone rising in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope. Apparently the guy has a world famous reputation amongst the country club set,” Simon assured him. “Bills himself as a ‘futurist’, if you can believe that; name of LaForce, Maxim LaForce. Guess he’s got quite a rep for picking winners in the business world’s version of gambling … he predicts hot investment and development trends, apparently quite successfully.”

“If he’s so successful, why doesn’t he just make his own fortune and retire?” Jim challenged sardonically.

“It seems he’s on the Fortune Five Hundred list, so he’s not hurting financially,” Simon replied with a shrug.

“Could be that he gets his psychic inspiration through something more prosaically called ‘insider trading’,” Jim mused then, a speculative look on his face.

“Oddly enough, I wondered about that, too,” Simon agreed, slightly sarcastically, with a wide bogus smile and then he sobered. “Check him out.” Glancing at his watch, he added, “But it’s already late on a Friday evening, so it can wait until Monday. Tomorrow night is probably only about setting up his next mark; I doubt he’ll actually try to fleece anyone there.”

They nodded as they stood. “We’ll keep you posted,” Blair said as they left the office.

“Just don’t do anything to embarrass me or the PD at the party,” Simon called after them.

Turning as one, innocent expressions on their faces and hands raised, they chorused, “What? Us?”

Simon grinned and, after reminding them about brunch at his place on Sunday, he waved them off.

His phone rang and, when he answered it, his expression grew a trifle wary. “Yes, sir, I’ve just told them,” he replied and then listened. “Oh, I didn’t expect … but it’s not necessary … yes, yes, I understand. Thank you, sir.”

Banks looked up and caught Ellison’s amused gaze and sardonic salute just before the tall detective looped an arm around his partner’s shoulders and they headed out the door. He saw Jim say something to Blair just before they disappeared from his sight on the way to the elevator – and he could hear Sandburg’s hoot of laughter from the hall. Sighing, sitting back in his chair, Simon wasn’t happy about having his private calls overheard, but then he snorted and, with a resigned chuckle, his visage eased into an expression of wry amusement.

**

Sweaty and sated, Blair drew the covers with him when he crawled up the bed to sprawl over Jim. Snuggling close, he fell into deep sleep, while Jim held him and relished the sharp, pungent tang of his scent. Idly combing his fingers through the long, silky curls, smiling to find them damp with their earlier exertion, Jim was drifting off when Blair began to shift and mutter. Beyond automatically stroking Sandburg’s back and flank to give comfort, he wasn’t otherwise disturbed, for Blair tended to be a restless sleeper.

 _Crouching in the jungle, his arm around Woot, he could feel the wolf trembling and hear the low growl in his throat. Where was the panther? Where was Jim?_

 _From the left, he heard the loud roar of a hunting cat and relaxed – but Woot bared his teeth and his growl grew more menacing. Frowning, confused, he turned toward the sound of the cat. Instead of the sleek black panther he’d been expecting, he saw a massive, mighty lion stalk out of the forest. Its wild mane was a radiant halo, until he looked closer and saw that it was tangled and dirty, matted and streaked with something dark … blood? The lion’s body was sleek and well-muscled but the golden hide was marred by suppurating sores; and fresh blood glistened on its muzzle and dripped from his barred fangs. Tawny eyes stared into his, weighing him, gauging the threat he presented, and Blair shivered at the cold, indifferent evil he sensed emanating from the beast. Its lip curled, as if he weren’t worth its time, and the killer turned to slink away into the undergrowth._

Blair’s restlessness grew; his evident dreaming taking him deeper into some unknown realm. Frowning slightly, already more than half-asleep himself, Jim murmured reassuringly. But Blair moaned as he rolled away and curled in on himself, as if afraid.

 _Blinking, he found himself on the balcony, and the evening sky was a jubilant riot of colors. But darkness gathered in the south and quickly spread across the sky, blotting out the light. Below him, he saw darkness curl like fog through the streets, a thick, putrid miasma that rose like mist. Then out of the mist, like a ghost, he saw the lion padding silently along the street. The stench of decay filled his nostrils, choking him, making him gag. The darkness above began to rain crimson, nearly black, like dying blood._

 _He reeled back, struggling to breathe; his hands lifted to fend off the fog and the rain. As the droplets struck his skin, they burned like acid and he cried out. He heard a wolf’s frenzied howl and the angry scream of a wounded cat. Looking down, he saw Jim sprawled on his back and unmoving, blackly crimson blood raining down upon him. The ghostly lion stood over his fallen partner, one massive paw pressing down on his chest, and looked up at him, bloody fangs bared in a hideous grin of triumph._

 _Helpless to stop what was happening, horrified, he screamed with furious denial and raging despair, “Noooooooo!”_

Jim was just reaching for him when Sandburg’s horrified, guttural shout of denial and rage and wild thrashing brought Jim fully awake. Alarmed, he rose up over his partner and gripped Blair’s flailing wrists, calling to him, “Hey, hey, easy, Chief! It’s okay. Just a dream! Wake up, Blair! Wake up!”

Sandburg stopped struggling and fighting as if his life depended upon getting free and his eyes flew open. His chest heaved with his effort to drag in deep, cleansing breaths. Still caught in the nightmare, his wide, fear-filled eyes stared blindly at Jim.

“You with me here, Chief?” he called again, trying to sound steady and reassuring but the panic in Blair’s eyes chilled him. “It was a nightmare. You’re okay.”

Gradually, Blair’s breathing calmed and his gaze flickered around the darkened room. But then he paled and scrambled over Jim, heading to the stairs. Pounding down them, he launched himself into the dark bathroom, Jim on his heels. Barely making it, he doubled over, vomiting violently. He was shivering, as if freezing, though his body was hot to Jim’s touch as he held him steady with one hand and pulled Blair’s hair back with the other. Still gripping the bowl, Blair gasped and sagged to his knees, shuddering.

“What the hell …?” Jim muttered, dropping down to one knee to hold him close and give what comfort he could.

“V-vision,” Blair stammered, sounding stunned and scared as he huddled within Jim’s embrace. “T-t-terrible vision.”

“Tell me,” he urged, grabbing a large, warm towel to wrap around Blair’s nakedness and rubbing his back and arms to drive off the chill.

“I was in the jungle with Woot. He was … growling,” Blair recounted as he huddled under the towel, still shivering. “And then I saw this massive lion, battle-scarred but beautiful and, and powerful. But evil; man, _so_ evil. The lion, the lion stared at me, like it was assessing me, but then it turned away. Next thing I knew, I was on the balcony and darkness was spreading everywhere.” Blair’s nose wrinkled and he shuddered. “There was this disgusting, foul stench and it was raining blood that stung like acid. Below, I saw … I saw you. The lion was looming over you, triumphant and you looked … you looked ….” Gasping, he lurched toward the toilet and retched again, but he was empty, hollow but for the sickening memories.

“Easy, Chief; let it go,” Jim soothed, combing Blair’s hair off his sweaty face. “It wasn’t real. Just a dream or vision or … whatever the hell it was. Not real.”

“It was a warning,” Blair rasped as he rubbed his mouth and looked up at him with stricken eyes. “Death’s stalking Cascade and maybe us personally. And … and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.” Jim hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. He hated the damn visions. Always had. They never made any sense – only ever presaged trouble. Big trouble. “But, hey, it might have been nothing more than a reaction to that movie we rented last night,” he went on with hopeful reassurance. The movie, purportedly based on a true story, was about two man-eating lions in Africa that the local people firmly believed were demons. Jim knew Blair had found it very disturbing, even haunting in a horrible way.

Blair frowned and thought about that. Despite the darkness in the bathroom, his eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his right temple against the vicious pounding in his skull. “The Ghost and the Darkness,” he muttered with a grimace of distaste. “Yeah, maybe,” he allowed uncertainly, his gaze hooded. “Fits the imagery of the dream.”

Wanting to believe he was right, nodding encouragingly, Jim ran the tap and filled the glass by the sink with water. Blair took it gratefully to rinse out his mouth, and then he swallowed greedily, as if he were dying of thirst. “Come on; let’s get you back to bed,” Jim said as he gave his partner a hand up.

Now feeling numb and disoriented, exhausted as he always was by psychic experiences, Blair nodded slowly and allowed Jim to draw him back upstairs. Jim got him settled again in their bed and, in seconds, Blair plummeted into heavy sleep.

For a long time as the night wore on, Jim watched over him, scowling as he tried to make sense of the weird and disturbing dream. Finally, near dawn, he gave up trying to understand the inexplicable. Firmly deciding that it had just been a simple nightmare brought on by the real life horror story in the movie, he curled himself protectively around Blair and allowed himself to drift into sleep.

**

The next morning, the migraine and gut-wrenching nausea were gone, and Blair’s memories of the vision or nightmare were hazy. Mostly, all he could remember was the contemptuous look in the lion’s eyes and the horror he’d felt that still made him shiver with apprehensive aversion. Unwilling to go round and round something that made no sense and get nowhere, increasingly convinced it had been merely a very bad dream, he agreed when Jim suggested they go for a run, to clear their heads.

The mid-March day was mild with only a very slight, misty rain, winter’s worst chill long past. Daffodils bloomed brightly in the park, their brilliant yellow hues vibrant against the verdant grass, and trees were showing the fuzzy green of new growth. The freshness of the day, the cleanliness of it, helped assuage his lingering fears that some nameless evil was stalking them.

By the time they got back and had showered, Blair felt better and he was able to face food. Jim’s belief, that what he’d taken for a vision was only a bad reaction to a mesmerizing and terrifying movie, felt more and more credible, so he tried to let the residual sense of horror go.

Jim made popcorn and they watched a football game on television that afternoon. Afterward, they kibitzed about the game as they prepared and ate their early, light dinner of a chicken stir-fry and salad before shaving and getting dressed in their finest for their security detail that night. Since shoulder holsters wouldn’t fit under the tuxedo jackets, they both contented themselves with one weapon stashed in the back of their cummerbunds, and another strapped just above an ankle.

When they left the building, they were heartened to discover the persistent, soft drizzle had stopped and the stars blinked cheerfully in the distant night sky. Their aggravation at being roped in to provide what amounted to private security services was tempered by their amusement at being paid overtime to do so.

There were worse ways to spend a pleasant Saturday evening than at an elegant party, visiting with family.

**

Commissioner Timothy Ryan’s estate commanded a bluff overlooking the ocean on the edge of the city. Artificial torches on the tops of thin, wrought-iron poles lit the winding drive up to the mansion. Light spilled from all the windows, glittering with warm welcome against the damp chill of the night air. A big, hearty man, far more a politician than policeman, Ryan greeted them jovially at the door. Jim nodded agreeably and then excused himself to check the perimeter, while Blair went inside, to acquaint himself with the layout of the house before the first guests arrived.

Within half an hour, Jim was back inside and, shortly after, cars and limousines began to roll in through the gate from the street. A string quartet began to play in the corner of the ballroom as servants circulated with trays of scrumptious, bite-size delicacies and flutes of champagne. When William and Steven entered the wide portal, Jim smiled and moved to meet them. Pleased to see one another, the men shook hands.

“I didn’t think you gave much credence to psychics, Dad,” Jim teased.

“I didn’t, until last fall,” William replied with a wry grin as his gaze found Blair, who was standing across the room, talking with their host. “Now, I’m prepared to believe almost anything is possible.”

Chuckling, Jim nodded. “Well, guess I can understand that.”

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Steven asked curiously. “I’ve heard a few rumors about him but not much substantive detail.”

“You’re ahead of me,” Jim replied with a shrug. “All I know is that he apparently ‘divines’ good business opportunities and is rich enough he’ll never have to work again. Could be for real, but he could be a charlatan. Before either of you get involved with him, let me check him out.”

Smiling broadly, William clapped Jim on the shoulder. “Thanks, son,” he said warmly. “Really appreciate you looking out for our best interests.”

Thinking of times past, Jim quirked a brow and nodded, smiled a thin-lipped smile, and was glad the bridges with his family had been rebuilt.

Simon and Naomi entered the room, both looking elegant and happy. Blair saw them and, excusing himself from the Commissioner, strode across the room to give his mother a hug. “Hey, really glad to see you,” he greeted her and gave Simon a gamin grin. “You on duty, too?”

Snorting, Banks smiled bemusedly and shook his head. “Invited guest – so he doesn’t have to pay me the overtime you guys are getting,” he replied with no little irony. “Personally, I expect those two patrol cars down at the gate are all the Commissioner really needs to discourage any would-be thieves or party-crashers.”

The Ellisons joined them and those who weren’t on official duty snagged flutes of champagne when a tray passed within reach. Nearly a hundred people now filled the large, elegant ballroom and voices were raised in laughter. Just then, Jim felt a tingle, an odd sensation he couldn’t pin down, as if the air around him were charged with unsettling negative energy. Looking around, he saw a stranger enter the hall.

“Maxim LaForce,” Blair murmured, moving to stand beside him and touching his arm lightly. “Ryan showed me a photo of him when I first came inside.”

Jim nodded, dividing his attention between the guest of honor and the others in the hall, swiftly assessing whether there were any threats. He saw only signs of welcome although, in some faces, he noted a degree of wariness that gave him pause. Returning his gaze to LaForce, he studied the man while Ryan hastened across the room to greet his guest and draped a familiar arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. LaForce stiffened at the contact, but so minutely that Jim doubted anyone else, including the Commissioner himself, would have noticed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ryan called to the gathering, “it’s my great pleasure to present to you Maxim LaForce. Maxim, I’ll introduce you to everyone here as the evening unfolds, but let me simply say that I’m delighted you accepted my invitation to visit our fair city. You have a great deal to offer to those who are open to your advice and I sincerely hope you’ll consider staying in Cascade, at least for some time.”

“Thank you, Tim,” LaForce replied, his voice low and resonant, rich like dark coffee. Smiling charmingly as his gaze traveled the room and lit briefly upon Blair, he added, “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“Oh, my,” Naomi murmured, her voice very low and sounding distressed. “His aura is … well, very disturbing. So darkly crimson it’s almost black.”

Though he could not have heard her, given the distance that separated them, LaForce looked enigmatically into her eyes for a long moment before again gazing elsewhere, and she shivered.

“Mom?” Blair asked with a small frown of concern.

Conscious that the men around her were all looking at her askance, she bit her lip. “He’s dangerous,” she told them, her voice tight and anxious. “ _Very_ dangerous.”

Blair’s gaze narrowed and he turned to thoughtfully watch LaForce move through the crowd with the Commissioner. Though he doubted the Ellisons or Simon gave his mother’s perceptions much credence, Blair had learned over the years to trust her instincts. In large measure, he knew it had been the positive auras that surrounded Jim and Simon that had enabled his mother to so easily get past her prejudicial judgments about cops, with the result that she had quickly become comfortable with the two men, and had grown to love them.

“I think you might be right,” Jim agreed, though with less certainty. When Blair looked at him, surprised at his easy acceptance of Naomi’s observation, he said quietly, “There’s – something. Can’t explain it. Like a ripple in the air; unsettling.”

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes, and then gazed meaningfully at William and Steven. “Psychics and sentinels – never a dull moment,” he groused wryly, sotto voce. They chuckled in commiseration, but all of them had seen too much that was beyond the pale of normalcy to blithely discount Naomi’s and Jim’s observations, and their words made them all uneasy.

Jim and Blair excused themselves and returned to their security duties of watching the crowd, keeping one eye on the perimeter, and the other on LaForce. From time to time, Jim listened in on the conversations involving LaForce, and it seemed many of the corporate heads present knew the man at least by reputation. Some of them commented on his ‘acuity’ in determining bold and successful investment strategies, referencing conversations they’d had with his clients in other cities. Several indicated an interest in meeting with him during the next week to ‘pursue discussions to our mutual advantage’. LaForce was uniformly urbane, charming, witty and, inevitably, flirtatious with the women.

“What do you think?” Blair asked softly when their casual patrol of the room brought them back together about two hours after the reception had started.

“I think he’s too smooth to believe,” Jim replied, his expression and tone flat. “There’s something off about him. Just can’t pin down what. What do you think?”

Crossing his arms, Blair watched as the Commissioner led LaForce to a podium back by crimson curtains at the far end of the room. “I … I’m not sure,” Sandburg said, sounding troubled. “He gives me the creeps, but I don’t know why. On the surface, he looks like everyone else in the room – dripping with money and disgustingly complacent. But under all that evident charm, I get the sense that he, I don’t know, despises everyone, is contemptuous of them. Like he’s playing with them for his own amusement.”

Listening, Jim frowned and nodded slowly in agreement. “Like a con man,” he muttered. “Which is probably exactly what he is.”

LaForce stood behind the podium and lifted his hands for attention. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your gracious welcome tonight and, Commissioner Ryan, for your warm hospitality.” He laid one hand over his heart in what Jim thought was a smarmy gesture of over-done sincerity, as he went on, “I know many of you have heard something of me before, of the services I render to my clients – and I know many of you are, understandably, skeptical. After all, one doesn’t usually mix voodoo with business.” He chuckled and others laughed lightly at his self-effacement. “With your indulgence, I thought it might be amusing to provide you with a small demonstration this evening, to show you that perception and understanding can, indeed, go beyond common borders of what we can see and hear.” When his suggestion met with approving applause, he looked around the crowd and his smile widened as he said, “Would anyone care to volunteer to have your fortune told?”

The offer was so baldly made, and so like a cheap carnival pitch in nature, that the wealthy guests were taken aback. While many were curious, none wanted to seem eager; nor did many of the men want to risk having private matters revealed to competitors, or indiscretions revealed to their wives. Jim picked up enough increased feminine heartbeats that he assumed the men weren’t the only ones who might have indiscretions to hide from their spouses. When there were no immediate volunteers, LaForce turned toward Jim and Blair. “Commissioner,” he asked, “would you agree to allow me to call one of your officers up here, to help me demonstrate my skills?”

“Of course,” Ryan laughed indulgently.

Gesturing at Blair, LaForce directed, “You with the tied-back hair, come forward.”

Sandburg squinted at him in surprise and annoyance at the haughty command, and then felt a flare of unease under LaForce’s intense, almost hungry scrutiny. Beside him, Jim muttered his displeasure, but Blair touched his arm lightly and nodded his agreement to playing the guinea pig. The guests parted and applauded in encouragement, leaving a clear path for him to the front of the room.

As he made his way to the podium, Jim heard Naomi whisper indignantly to Simon, “That’s wrong. A white witch _always_ asks permission from the person they are going to read. He’s just treated Blair like he’s little more than a slave.” Ellison’s eyes narrowed as he studied LaForce, wondering why the man had chosen his partner for his little psychic display.

When Blair reached LaForce, Maxim asked him to hold his hands up, like a surgeon who had just scrubbed. Reaching out, he clasped Blair’s wrists and gave a little shake, murmuring, “Relax, this isn’t going to hurt.”

Jim stiffened when he saw his partner flinch slightly at the contact and he heard Blair’s heart beat faster. Something was going on, but he didn’t know what.

Nodding to himself, LaForce frowned in concentration as he studied the backs of Blair’s hands. “You’re inclined to be a very open, gregarious individual, one who trusts too easily, perhaps, but you’ve been rewarded with many friends. Your inclination is to be in the center of things, watching, observing, having fun, entertaining others with stories and humor. But you’ve learned to be more circumspect, if not suspicious; to guard your tongue. As a result, your preference now is for quiet, rather than raucous social occasions; a peaceful evening at home with your,” with a quick glance at Jim, “partner, instead of a night out on the town.”

Jim’s instinctive sense that something was badly off spiked. How the hell did this stranger know they lived together? He glanced at Ryan, wondering how much the man had shared with LaForce about them. Crossing his arms, he rubbed his mouth, suspiciously beginning to wonder if it had been no accident that the two of them had been tagged for sentry duty, or if this had been some kind of setup to make LaForce look good. But that didn’t make sense. Ryan seemed honestly delighted to introduce LaForce to his society friends. However, Ryan liked to brag about their arrest record, one of the best in the country. If he’d bragged to LaForce, he might have revealed a fair bit of information about them – and maybe it had been LaForce who had requested their presence. If so, he’d had time to do at least some research on them, in preparation for wowing the crowd with his psychic ability. Though it was all just supposition, more and more Jim was convinced that this so-called spontaneous fortune telling crap was all a setup to convince those with doubts. Safer to pick on one of them, too, than to target one of the guests who might resent being embarrassed or made a figure of fun and amusement.

At the front of the room, LaForce pressed down on Blair’s thumbs and said, “You can be impetuous, quick to anger but you don’t carry a grudge. You have little interest in wealth acquisition but enjoy comfort.” And then, when he looked into Blair’s palms, a cold, knowing smile grew on his lips. “Like a wolf, you are a romantic and you mate for life, but you will not likely have any children. I wonder,” he murmured, his tone almost taunting, “if your mate is as loyal, as devoted, or is, perhaps, as unpredictable, fickle and selfish as a cat?”

 _Okay, this is weird,_ Jim thought, his frown deepening. No way was there anything anywhere that would give this guy information about their spirit animals.

“You are exceedingly bright,” the psychic was saying, the words falling quickly as if he were reading a well-remembered text, his tone superior and condescending, “but you are not using a tenth of your potential, for you have buried your light, hidden it in plain sight. You have the potential of tremendous power over others, but it is undeveloped, even resisted. You are guided by old-fashioned values like loyalty, integrity, compassion, and friendship, even when they are not in your best interest and may harm you. A peaceful man, you are capable of great violence if your mate or other loved ones are at risk. As for your lifeline,” he went on, a fingertip lightly tracing Blair’s palm, “you broke your arm – falling out of a tree, I think. You had the usual childhood maladies: chicken pox when you were two, mumps at five and measles at ten. You’ve been healthy as an adult but, strangely, I see,” he paused for effect, and then raised his voice, as if astonished, “you have died by violence – but been revived with the help of the spirits, who invested their energy in you.”

A ripple of consternation rose from the audience, but LaForce appeared to be oblivious to the crowd. Jim exchanged a quick, anxious glance with Simon. The fortune teller’s voice swiftly drew their attention back to the front of the room. “Your lifeline is ambiguous from that point on; I see shadows of great threat and great power. A truthful man, you live with a singular lie. You believe in the mysteries and mysterious, and you seek meaning and purpose in life. You also seek to help others develop their potential; you are, by nature, a teacher. You’re generous in spirit, a soft touch and can relatively easily be taken advantage of by a sad sob story.” Looking into Blair’s eyes, his gaze cold and penetrating, he laughed and chided, “As a police officer, I’d think you’d’ve toughened up by now and been less of a bleeding heart. Be careful, lest your gentle nature be the death of you,” and again his gaze lifted to Jim’s, “or of those you love. Be wary, young one,” he counseled as he looked again into Blair’s eyes, “of taking on powers much greater than your own. Discretion is often the better part of valor.”

He had Blair hold his hands up, palms out and fingers pressed tight together. “You will stand up for your convictions, not aggressively but with determination. You will not be anyone’s doormat.” Glancing at Blair’s ears, he concluded, “You will work hard all your life and you will feel that little has come easily, at least in the sense of material wealth, but you will achieve what you wish and be contented with what you have – _if_ you live long enough to enjoy it.”

LaForce stepped back to signal his reading was finished, and he cocked a brow, his gaze challenging as he looked into Blair’s eyes. The room was utterly quiet. Blair cleared his throat, and said lightly, “Fascinating. Do you read the lines or are the hands only something for the client to focus on? I’ve heard psychics don’t really need to look at palms or tea leaves, they just ‘know’, but it would unnerve people to simply speak truths about them as if pulling them from the air.”

“Very perceptive,” LaForce chuckled and scratched his cheek. “While everyone’s palms are different and do tell the tale of their lives, you’re right; I have no need to look into them. I walk in the shadowlands and see what others cannot.”

Studying him, his tone still playful, Blair replied, “Well, you were right, I did fall out of a tree and break my arm. Don’t know how you could have known that. The other stuff?” He shrugged. Mildly, but with a slight edge of warning, he added, “You’re also right that I like to be peaceful rather than aggressive, but I can use force when required and there is no other choice. That’s, uh,” he went on with a rueful glance at the attentive audience, “kinda necessary in my job.” He won the laugh he’d been seeking, easing the heightened tension in the room. Leaning slightly forward under cover of the murmurings that broke out in the crowd, meeting the piercing black eyes steadily, he said quietly, “You’re good. But know this: we take our jobs of protecting the people of this city very seriously. Might be best if you moved on.”

Evidently amused by Blair’s warning, Maxim laughed disparagingly. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he replied, still chuckling as he turned away. But he looked over his shoulder and said darkly, “But if I choose to stay, best keep out of my way, young one. I’m out of your league.” He paused and glanced at Jim. “And your, uh, watchman, will be of little use to you if I do choose to stay.”

Blair gave him an assessing look and then turned his back to walk away. He guarded his pace and his posture, striving to seem relaxed and unconcerned – but he had no doubt now that his mother was right; this guy was dangerous, very dangerous. LaForce knew things no one could know and his manner, so urbane and charming on the surface, was schooled to inspire fear in those who could see what he was. Looking up at his partner, he saw that Jim’s expression had flattened into a frozen mask, but fire burned in his eyes. Glancing at Simon, his mother and the Ellisons, he could see they were all unnerved by the palm reading. A woman in the crowd caught his sleeve as he passed by and asked, “Did you really die?”

He laughed softly. “Came close once; nearly drowned. But I’m still here so I guess I didn’t die.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, blushing slightly. And then she, too, laughed, if nervously. “He just sounded so convincing.”

“Well, I think that was the idea of the demonstration,” he said with an easy grin. “Not sure I’d trust him with my money, though.”

Giving him a thoughtful, shrewd look, she nodded and turned away, to pass that advice along to her husband and her friends. Blair blew a silent breath and then continued across the hall to Jim.

“We need to check this guy out,” Jim grated.

“Oh, yeah,” Blair agreed, feeling more than a little shaken by the experience. But then a thought occurred to him. “What are the odds that the Commissioner told LaForce more than we might want him to know?”

Jim nodded. “I was just wondering the same thing. Would explain why Ryan wanted the two of us on duty tonight.”

Simon and Naomi joined them and it was clear that Banks had overheard their comments. “I’ll ask Ryan, as soon as I can get him alone. But if he didn’t spill the beans, then this guy knows too much that he shouldn’t have any way of knowing. Even so … he said stuff the Commissioner couldn’t have told him because Ryan wouldn’t have any way of knowing details about your childhood.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any doubt he’s psychic,” Blair returned levelly. “I just hope that’s all he is.”

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” Simon demanded. “What else could he be?”

His lips thin, Blair shook his head. “Someone who uses his power for his own ends,” he murmured, mindful of the crowd around them and careful to keep his voice low. “I just don’t know how far he’ll go to get what he wants.” Looking up at Banks, he went on, “That comment about walking in the shadowlands? I know what he meant. I, uh, I met that thief we caught in December in the shadowlands; it’s a spirit plane rather than the physical world we inhabit.”

Rolling his eyes, Simon rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate cases like this,” he muttered. “That’s _not_ the kind of thing you can take to a jury.”

“We’ll check him out, Simon,” Jim said, his voice tight as he followed LaForce with his eyes. “Just because he’s a psychic doesn’t mean he’s dangerous or has any criminal intent.”

Thinking about his nightmare vision and wondering if there was any connection, Blair observed with a slight shudder, “I hope you’re right. ‘Cause if he’s up to no good, I don’t know how we’d either catch him or stop him.”

Before the party broke up an hour later, Simon had a chance to corner the Commissioner to ask if he’d shared information about the two detectives with LaForce. Ryan flushed in embarrassment but, reluctantly, admitted he’d said some things about having individuals with unusual talents on the force and that he may have said something about Sandburg’s drowning and Ellison’s unusual abilities. Banks was hard-pressed not to bellow at the man, reminding himself that the politician was his boss, but he respectfully asked the Commissioner not to share any more details that were _supposed_ to remain private.

When he conveyed the information back to the others, William and Steven relaxed somewhat. LaForce could simply have been embellishing on the little he’d been told.

But Naomi worried at it. “How would he know about Mrs. Danbush’s tree?” she wondered anxiously.

“Or about wolves and cats and shadowlands,” Blair agreed. “No, he’s definitely psychic, but like Jim said, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s dangerous.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t, either,” William observed shrewdly as he studied LaForce, a thoughtful expression on his face.

**

Though it was a day off, they headed downtown early the next morning to begin researching Maxim LaForce. Jim took the more prosaic route of checking the usual sources to compile information, while Blair delved into the murkier world of psychic phenomena and soothsaying on the ‘net. After an hour, Jim looked up from his computer screen and saw his partner frowning in disturbed concentration. Eyes narrowing, wondering if Blair had gotten sidetracked into something that had caught his fancy, he called, “Whatcha got?”

Blinking, Sandburg looked up at him and then pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes. “Let’s hear what you have first,” he temporized.

“Well, for starters, I doubt ‘Maxim LaForce’ is his real name,” Ellison drawled as he glanced at the notes he’d made. “There’s no birth record and no record of him immigrating into the country under that name. So I don’t know who he really is. He’s apparently forty-two years old and appeared out of nowhere ten years ago, in New York City. Simon’s right about his healthy financial state; the guy is definitely not hurting economically. He’s got estates everywhere from Carmel to the Alps, and the money to keep them richly maintained. Unmarried according to the tax records. No wants, no warrants, no indication that the feds or anyone else is interested in him. He lists his occupation as consultant.”

Blair’s lips thinned and twisted as his gaze went back to his own screen. Curious, Jim rose to stand behind him and read the article’s headline, “Making deals with the devil.”

“Yeah,” Blair said, “according to this and some other sources I’ve found, LaForce is a powerful psychic who has earned quite a rep with the rich crowd. But there’s a certain darkness around him.”

“Darkness?” Jim echoed skeptically.

“Uh huh,” Sandburg grunted as he raked his fingers through his hair. “He hasn’t made his fortune from his own investments. It’s mostly come from bequests.”

Cocking his head and crossing his arms, Jim frowned thoughtfully. “Bequests? Like from satisfied customers?”

“Yep, more than a dozen,” Sandburg told him. “The latest one is still in probate; a guy in San Francisco who apparently committed suicide right after a huge and very profitable merger took place, and not long after he’d changed his will, leaving most of his _very_ large estate to LaForce.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ellison argued. “Why kill yourself when things are going good? Did the person have a history of depression or something?”

Shaking his head, Blair consulted his notes. “Apparently not; the guy, Jamieson Kendall, was healthy and of sound mind until he was found dead in his den of a single gunshot wound to the head. No evidence of any intruders – but no powder burns on his hand, either. LaForce was attending an opera at the time – has several witnesses. Evidently, he’s always at a public function when his benefactors bite the dust.”

Scratching his cheek, Jim mused skeptically, “That’s convenient.”

“This article speculates that LaForce is a powerful black witch or sorcerer who uses his abilities for selfish and evil purposes,” Blair went on soberly, waving to the screen. “He’s very closed-mouthed about his background, like where he came from and how he does what he does. Says it’s a ‘gift’. Basically, he claims to be a simple psychic.”

“C’mon,” Jim challenged with a grin, “you don’t really think this guy is killing people psychically, do you? That’d be a first. If he’s dirty, he’s more likely hiring muscle to do the murders – if they are murders. Could be all circumstantial; a solid alibi is hard to beat.”

Shrugging, Blair shook his head. “I don’t know what to think,” he replied, his tone distant, preoccupied. “Remember the Junos? Maybe this guy has a twin. Or … I don’t know. Maybe we should just keep an open mind.” Biting his lip, he looked up at his partner. “We both know that, well, that the mysterious and unexplainable isn’t necessarily impossible.”

Jim’s gaze shifted away and he rubbed the back of his neck. Never comfortable with intangibilities, he nodded reluctantly. Sighing, he turned away to clear off his desk; it was time to head over to Simon’s place for brunch. “Let’s hope he’s just a simple charlatan, or at worst, an ordinary bad guy,” he muttered, his thoughts already more on the unusual, if not unheard of, invitation from Simon.

Studying his screen with a troubled expression, Blair saved and closed the file. As he pulled on his jacket on the way out of the office, he ventured, “Jim, you remember that vision I had the other night?”

“You mean the nightmare about the man-eating lions?” Jim asked guardedly, remembering all too well how sick and terrified Blair had been when he’d awakened from the bad dream.

“Yeah. What if it wasn’t a nightmare?”

Jim was about to protest that of course it was, but he hesitated at the anxious expression on his partner’s face. “You saying you think this LaForce is the lion in your vision – if it was a vision?”

“What if he is?”

Jim shook his head as he punched the elevator button. “I don’t know, Chief, I think that’s a bit of a reach. When you’ve done this stuff before, you’ve been right in the heads of the crazies, not dreaming about flesh-eating monsters.” He looped an arm around his lover’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s not jump to conclusions here, okay? I’ll grant that the guy has some psychic ability, and I think he’s a conman, but it’s a pretty big stretch to believe he’s using his mind to kill people.”

Blair’s gaze dropped away and he bit his lip as he wrestled with his memories of the eerie and powerful awareness of threat he’d felt when LaForce had touched his hands and looked into his eyes. “Yeah,” he finally agreed as he followed Jim into the elevator. “You’re right. Maybe I just let him get to me last night. I have to tell you, man, the guy gave me the creeps.”

Jim shrugged. “It’s called intimidation, Chief. He makes his living by getting people to bow to his personality. And given the health of his bank accounts, I’d have to say he’s damned good at it.”

**

When they arrived at the Banks’ residence, a comfortable condo apartment with a sweeping view of the bay and the mountains to the north, they were only marginally surprised to find Naomi bustling about in the kitchen as she helped prepare the meal. She and Simon had been an item for a few months now, but they usually kept a low profile on the weekends that Darryl was staying with his father, as he was that weekend. Darryl, head down and gaze averted, was making himself busy setting the table in the dining room and filling glasses with juice from a carafe, while Simon poured coffee for them, his welcoming smile a tad brittle.

With typically warm and effusive greetings, Naomi bussed Blair’s cheek and smiled brightly at Jim before turning back to the stove to flip the blueberry pancakes sizzling in the pan. Jim took a mug of steaming coffee from his boss and speculated about the tension he could feel in the air. Catching his partner’s eyes, he quirked a brow and Blair gave a slight shrug in return, accompanied by a nearly imperceptible sigh as he looked toward the dining room. Sipping his coffee, Jim figured the same thing. Naomi had probably spent the night and Darryl was just coming to the realization that his father was seriously involved with a woman who wasn’t his mother; not that that should be surprising, given that Simon and Joan had been divorced for years, but kids didn’t always react well to new people in their parents’ lives.

Deciding that a distraction was in order, Jim began to bring Simon up to speed on what they’d learned about LaForce that morning, while he and Blair helped Banks ferry platters of pancakes, eggs and sausages into the dining room. Banks listened attentively, as did Naomi and Darryl, while they all took their places around the table.

“You think this guy is for real?” Darryl challenged. “Like he can actually read minds or something?” He looked like he couldn’t decide if that was cool or downright scary.

“We’re not sure, yet, son,” Simon replied, a frown furrowing his brow. “A lot of this could be circumstantial, especially as we don’t know how much the Commissioner told him about who would be at the party last night.” Shifting his gaze to Jim and Blair, he went on, “Doesn’t sound like we’ve got a thing on this guy; nothing to warrant a closer look, anyway.”

“But, Simon,” Naomi protested indignantly, “you were there! He knew things he couldn’t have known, shouldn’t have known. And his aura –”

“Aura?” Darryl interjected, his gaze narrowing, not quite belligerently but with evident skepticism.

“Yes, well, I can see auras,” she said a bit defensively, and then lifted her chin. “They reveal a person’s mental and emotional state. Like yours is –”

“Auras aren’t something we can take to a jury,” Simon intervened quickly, though he laid a hand over hers to soften the bluntness of his comment.

Darryl rolled his eyes and then returned his attention to his plate, evidently oblivious to the worried glances his father and Naomi threw at him.

“Well,” Blair said evenly as he redirected the conversation back to LaForce, “I think we should dig a little deeper. See if we can find out more about his background.”

“And whether he might have garnered illicit insider trading information on behalf of his clients,” Jim added, doing his part to keep the peace. “Or maybe he’s involved in corporate espionage.”

“Fine,” Simon agreed. “Spend another day or two on this, but if nothing turns up, I think we have to let it go.”

The detectives nodded grudgingly and Jim commented on how great the breakfast was, winning a grateful smile from Naomi. An awkward silence fell then, until they’d all finished eating when Simon again covered Naomi’s delicate hand and took a breath. With an anxious glance at Darryl, he forced a smile and said, “Well, I didn’t invite you guys here just to get an update on that mind-reader.” His smile grew warmer and genuine when he glanced at Naomi, who looked at him radiantly and nodded encouragingly.

Blair’s lips parted with the realization of what was coming. Glancing at Darryl, who was sitting stiffly beside him, he reached out instinctively to lay a comforting hand on the youth’s shoulder. Beside him, Jim leaned back and draped an equally supportive arm around Blair’s shoulders.

“Naomi and I want you all to be the first to know –” Simon went on, looking at each of the three of them in turn, his gaze lingering on his son, “which is only right, because you’re family – that … well, we’ve decided to start living together and … and if it all works out the way we hope, we’ll be getting married this summer.”

Darryl’s head jerked up, astonishment on his face as he gaped at his father, flicked a disbelieving glance at Naomi, and then looked wildly away. “Great,” he snapped, shaking off Blair’s hand and standing so fast his chair scraped loudly on the floor. “Just great.” He whirled away and fled from the room, down the hall and out the door.

“Darryl!” Simon shouted, starting to stand, his voice thick with both anger and sorrow.

“No, let me go,” Blair insisted as he stood. Before taking off, he smiled and his gaze was warm as he looked at each of them, “Congratulations. I hope you’ll be very happy.” And then he teased, “But, um, will the department let me report directly to my step-dad?”

Simon snorted and Blair said, “Hold that thought; we’ll be back soon.” And then he loped after Darryl.

“Oh, dear,” Naomi murmured, wringing her hands. “We were afraid he’d take it that way!”

“Which he?” Jim asked, bemused. He’d heard Blair’s heart start hammering and figured his partner wasn’t quite as sanguine as he’d let on. But he smiled warmly as he stood to hug Naomi and shake Simon’s hand. “Congratulations, both of you.” Glancing toward the door, he added, “Don’t worry. It’ll all be okay.”

Heaving a sigh, Simon replied, “I hope you’re right. Maybe … maybe I should have told him on my own.”

“And maybe I should have told Blair,” she added with a slight frown. “Will this affect his job?”

The men looked at one another and shrugged. “I’ll have to take it up with the Chief,” Simon said. “Normally, we try not to have family members in a direct reporting relationship, for all kinds of reasons. But, well, I’m not sure he or the Commissioner would want to reassign the best team in Major Crime to another unit. I might have to accept a transfer, but that could complicate things, too, because, well, no one else at my level knows about Jim and his senses. We’ll just have to see.”

“Another captain might not be so, uh, understanding about Blair and me partnering, either,” Jim reflected, rubbing his mouth.

“I had no idea this could be so complicated,” she sighed and shook her head dejectedly. “Maybe this is a mistake.”

“No,” Simon immediately reassured her, as he drew her close. “No, Naomi. This isn’t a mistake. We’ll work it out. We always do.”

“Simon’s right,” Jim assured her, though he was more than a bit worried. And he felt a small flare of irritation with Naomi that he knew was unfair and that he quickly tried to suppress, without complete success. Things had just begun to settle down for him and Blair. The antipathy Blair had had to deal with in the department had been abating. Now, it would all start up again as people wondered if Simon’s relationship with Sandburg’s mother was the reason he’d accepted Blair into Major Crime ahead of other more experienced contenders; it seemed that Naomi was destined to continue complicating their lives. Forcing a hearty note into his voice, he went on jovially, “This is a celebration, right? So … where’s the champagne? I want to toast the happy couple!”

**

“Hey, Darryl, wait up!” Blair called when he got outside and saw the youth running toward the park across the street.

Darryl didn’t turn back, but his pelting gait hitched into a near stop before he continued walking away. Glancing both ways before he dashed into the street, Sandburg jogged after him, catching him along the wide path that led through a shady, wooded area. For a while, they walked silently together but, when he spotted a bench ahead that overlooked a small pond, Blair suggested, “Let’s sit for a minute, and talk, okay?”

Shrugging, Darryl angled toward the bench and plopped down on it, leaning forward, head down and his forearms braced on his thighs. Blair sat down beside him and looked out at the ducks swimming across the water. After a moment, Darryl challenged belligerently, “So, was I the only one who didn’t know that was coming, or what?”

“No, you weren’t,” Blair told him with a sigh. “I knew they’ve been going out and that they care about one another, but I didn’t see this coming, either.”

Intrigued, Darryl tilted his head, to look up at Sandburg. “What do you think about it?”

His brows arching under his curls, a quizzical expression on his face, Blair sank back against the support of the bench. “Honestly? I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Mom’s, well, she’s never been interested in marrying anybody before. But … Simon’s a wonderful man, so I can see the attraction.” Studying Darryl, he went on, “I can also see how it would be hard for you, though.” He hesitated, and then added, “You’ve probably been hoping your Mom and Dad would get back together again.”

Snorting, Darryl grimaced and then nodded. “Pretty dumb, huh? I mean, I guess I knew there was never any real hope of that happening but … they used to love each other, they really did, once ….”

Nodding sympathetically, Blair lightly rubbed the youth’s back. “The fact that he loves my Mom doesn’t mean he loves you any less,” he said softly. He smiled tentatively, then, and added almost shyly, “I always wanted a kid brother, not to mention a father. Kinda nice to get ones I already love.”

Straightening, evidently not having thought about that, Darryl searched his face. “Brother?” he echoed. “Father?” He blinked, absorbing the idea. “Shit, yeah,” he exclaimed, “we’ll be family. I hadn’t thought about that.” But his tone didn’t indicate whether he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing.

His gaze narrowing with concern, Blair asked, “You okay with that? Having me for a step-brother?” Looking away, he added uncertainly, “I mean, well, we’ve never talked much about what happened last year, about all that stuff with Rainier and the reporters. If you’d rather we just be friends, sort of …”

“Oh, hey, man,” Darryl replied when Blair’s voice dropped away, laying a reassuring hand on Blair’s knee, “you don’t think I actually believed all that crap, do you?”

“Huh?” Blair gaped at him, wondering which ‘crap’ he meant.

“That stuff about you lyin’ and everything?” Darryl clarified, shaking his head. “You think I didn’t figure all that out? C’mon, already. I know you wouldn’t ever cheat like that – and I’ve seen Jim do some pretty amazing stuff. You were just protecting him, like always, that’s all. Me? I’m pissed that Jim let you do it, and lets it stand. Why doesn’t he just come clean?”

Startled by the matter-of-fact statement of confidence in him that he’d received from few others, Blair swallowed hard. Sitting up, quickly surveying their environment to ensure they were alone, he said with quiet urgency, “I don’t _want_ him to ‘come clean’! Darryl, you have to understand – nobody can know this stuff. It’s dangerous for Jim – could put his life at risk. Believe me, he _hates_ not being able to say anything and he did _not_ know that I was going to hold that press conference. That was all _my_ decision.”

“What could happen to him?” Darryl asked, with a worried frown.

Licking his lips, knowing he couldn’t lie, couldn’t evade the truth, not now, not with everything else going on, Blair lightly gripped Darryl’s arm. “Okay, if you didn’t believe me, then you believe what the papers and news reports were saying about that … that paper I wrote. That Jim has enhanced senses?” When Darryl nodded, his eyes wide, transfixed, he went on, “Well, those senses can leave Jim very vulnerable. Too much input can really hurt him, like sudden bright lights and loud, crashing sounds – the pain is terrible and he’s … well, he could be killed in such moments; if the bad guys knew that, they could use his senses against him. That’s part of my job, to watch his back when those times happen unexpectedly.”

Nodding with understanding, Darryl breathed, “Okay, I see.” Looking away, he added, “Thanks for telling me; for not pretending I was wrong.” And then he had another thought. “You said you always wanted a dad. Don’t you know who your father is?”

“No, Darryl, I don’t,” he replied with a slight shrug, his gaze drifting back to the lake. “I’ve wondered a lot but … Mom says she doesn’t know.”

“You think it could have been that Sid Graham guy?” Darryl speculated. “I saw him on the news at the time and I thought maybe that’s why she sent your paper to him, you know? And, well, he’s not real tall and he’s got curly hair.”

“Oh, God,” Blair exclaimed, absolutely revolted by the idea. “Do _not_ go there!” Shuddering, he shook his head and crossed his arms tightly. “That man is not my father.”

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Darryl hastened to apologize. “But you must have some idea?”

His cheeks ballooning, Blair blew a slow breath and shook his head. “She was just a kid, younger than you are now, a runaway from home in the age of free love and drugs. She didn’t know what she was doing, the mistakes she was making.”

“You think you were a _mistake_?” Darryl gasped, clearly appalled that Blair would say such a thing.

“I probably was,” Blair replied wryly. “I doubt she planned to be a single Mom at the age of sixteen. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t know she loves me. She took the best care of me she could. My Mom’s … she’s a really nice person, Darryl. She has a good heart. If you give her a chance, I think you’ll like her, a lot. Maybe even love her someday.”

Scratching his head, Darryl sighed. “Don’t you think this is just a little weird? I mean, my Dad is all about law and order and authority and, well, from what I’ve heard about your Mom, she’s … about just the opposite.”

Laughing lightly, Blair nodded. “At first, yeah, I thought it was weird, until I really thought about it. On the surface, they seem so different. But, down deep, they believe in a lot of the same things: the rights of individuals, determination to protect those rights, love of the world around them, love of their sons and a desire to protect them, to be sure they have a good life; a profound belief in the equality of human beings, the importance of being honest, of acting with courage when necessary to defend those beliefs. They come at things from different perspectives, sure, but … in a lot of ways, they’re not so different.”

Darryl stared at the ducks and thought about that. Finally, he nodded. Casting a sideways glance at Blair, he asked softly, “You said you already love me and my Dad …?”

“Yes, Darryl, I do,” Blair affirmed, again rubbing his back. “Very much. I’ve thought of you guys as family for a long time now.”

“Brothers … huh,” Darryl murmured, awe in his voice as he continued to look out at the lake. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” he said with a widening smile and a decisive nod. Blair closed his eyes and relaxed, very pleased and happy with the kid’s reaction to their new relationship. Turning to him, Darryl then observed dryly, “I guess that makes Jim my brother-in-law.”

Gaping at him, and then shaking his head with a thin-lipped, helpless smile, Blair replied, “Man, you don’t miss much, do you? You okay with that? With, uh, us?”

Snickering, Darryl punched him lightly on the arm. “Dude, I’m down with it. You guys saved me an’ my Dad in Peru, and even before that, when Kincaid was going to kill me an’ the rest of us at the station, and then at the stadium. You guys are my Dad’s best friends … and, well, you’ve become a really good friend of mine. If my Dad has taught me anything, it’s to take people for who they are, for the good in them, and not to make stupid, blind judgments about them and the choices they make in how they live their own lives.”

“Your Dad is a very good, very smart and kind, decent man,” Blair said feelingly.

“Yeah, well, so’re you and Jim,” Darryl replied staunchly. “I’m just glad if you guys are happy together, that’s all.”

Very moved, Blair drew Darryl into a hug. “Thanks, man,” he said quietly. “Means a lot, you know? Especially from you, ‘cause you’re important to us.”

“Hey,” Darryl replied, surprised and touched by the hug and by how evidently his opinion mattered, “no problem. Brothers gotta stick together, right?”

“Right,” Blair agreed, slapping his back as he pulled away. Smiling, he studied Darryl’s face, and squeezed his shoulder. “I think my Mom has really good taste, you know? Getting me such a great family.”

“Well, my Dad’s not too shabby, either,” Darryl replied with a grin. “An’ what do you mean, ‘your’ Mom? Looks like she’s ‘our’ Mom, now.”

Laughing, Blair nodded. “And ‘our’ Dad.”

Snorting, Darryl mused, “Wonder if he’ll let you call him that at work?”

“Wonder if he’ll let me call him that at all!” Blair joked back.

Chuckling at that, Darryl stood. “Guess we should find out, huh? C’mon, bro, let’s go home.”

“Sounds like a plan, little brother,” Blair agreed with a grin as he stood and slung his arm around Darryl’s shoulders – a bit of a reach, since the youth was now a good few inches taller than him.

“Who you callin’ little?” Darryl challenged with a delighted smile as he elbowed Blair playfully. When Blair ducked away, laughing, Darryl reached out and snagged him, draping his own long arm around Blair’s shoulders as they sauntered out of the park. “So, you want to go to a Jags game, sometime? Maybe come and see me play basketball at school?”

“I’d like to do both, very much,” Blair told him sincerely. “And Darryl,” he added, “You know, you ever want to talk to anyone, about anything, you can come to me, right? Anytime.”

Darryl bobbed his head. His smile was shy as he said quietly, “I always wished I had a brother. I’m glad it turned out to be you.”

“So you’ll give Mom a chance?” Blair asked tentatively, hopefully.

“Yeah, man, for sure,” Darryl agreed. “She’s gotta be okay, right? You turned out pretty good.”

Laughing again, Blair shook his head. “You are in for a real ride, little brother. Naomi – and you can call her, Naomi, no problem, you never have to call her ‘Mom’ – well, she’s definitely one of a kind. Very sweet … but a bit, well ….”

“Eccentric?” Darryl suggested with a grin. “Like you? Meditating, interested in stuff like auras?”

“She really does see auras,” Blair defended quickly. “She’s not actually crazy.”

“Never said she was,” Darryl reassured him, still grinning fondly. Looking up at the apartment building, he mused, “Should make life interesting.”

“That she will,” Blair agreed, his voice warm with affection. Softly, he added, “I know it’s not what you hoped for – but it’ll be okay.”

Darryl nodded as they crossed the street. “Guess it’s all part of growing up,” he said soberly, as they went inside and strolled across the elegant foyer. “Guess love just happens, doesn’t it? It’s not something you can control or predict.”

“You’re right about that,” Blair agreed. “But … it’s a wonderful thing. Something to be cherished and celebrated, something wonderful.”

“You think this will last?” Darryl asked then, as he pushed the button for the elevator.

Shrugging, Blair hesitated. “Naomi doesn’t have a great track record, Darryl. But, then, she’s never wanted to marry anyone before. I guess we can never know what the future will hold but I really hope they’ll be happy, and that it will last. I’d be really glad for them.”

Darryl nodded thoughtfully as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “If it doesn’t,” he asked shyly, “will you still be my brother?”

“ _Always_ , man,” Blair assured him. “You can count on that.”

When they got back to the apartment, Simon and Naomi looked up, their expressions wary but hopeful. Darryl crossed the living room toward Naomi and she stood nervously as he approached – her gaze going to Blair, who nodded reassuringly – her eyes wide as she looked up at Darryl. He held out his hand and, when she’d taken it, he said, “I’m glad you and Dad are happy together an’ I look forward to getting to know you a whole lot better.” Glancing over his shoulder at Blair, he went on, “An’ I’m really glad you’ve already given me such a great brother.”

“Oh, Darryl,” she exclaimed softly, tears blurring her eyes. Awkwardly, she held her arms open but was clearly afraid to push too hard for too much. But he stepped forward and hugged her, a bit stiffly, but showing his willingness to try; and she hugged him back. “Thank you,” she whispered huskily. “Thank you so much.”

Simon swiped at his eyes and looked across the room at Blair, gratitude shining on his face.

“So …” Blair teased with a grin, as he shifted to stand beside Jim, who slung an arm around his shoulders, “does this mean we can call you ‘Dad’?”

Snorting, Simon shook his head. Pointing a stern finger at Jim, he warned, “Don’t you start; I’m not old enough to be _your_ father; I’m scarcely old enough to be _his_ ,” and tipped his head toward Blair. “But, uh, yeah, I guess, here at home, _if_ you insist, Blair, I suppose it would be alright – just not at the office, okay? There,” he rumbled playfully, “I’m still the boss and don’t either of you forget it.” But he sobered as he added uncertainly, “That is, if Darryl is okay with it.” He turned to his son.

“I’m good,” Darryl assured his father, as he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Congratulations, Dad. I hope … I hope you’ll both be really happy together.”

Deeply moved, proud of his boy, Simon pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you, son,” he rasped hoarsely. “Thank you very, very much.”

Darryl clung to him for a long moment and then extricated himself. Gesturing toward the glass in Jim’s hand, he jibed, “So, you gonna pour my, uh, _big_ bro and me some of that champagne?” Blair snickered softly.

“Glad to,” Simon replied with alacrity and a wide smile as he reached for the bottle and Naomi hastened to get the two empty flutes on the table. When he’d topped up all the glasses and they were all served, he held up his own in a toast. “To family!”

“To family!” they echoed enthusiastically and, smiling, they all drank to each other and the future they’d share.

**

Later, on the way home, Blair stared pensively out the window. Reaching over to grip his shoulder, Jim asked, “Hey, you okay?”

Lifting his hand to cover Jim’s, Blair gave him a fond smile. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’m fine with them being together. If they’re happy, that’s great.”

“But?”

“But … but I hope Naomi doesn’t hurt them,” he sighed and again looked away to stare blindly at the street. “I love her, you know I do. But I also know her better than anyone. A commitment like this? It’s a real stretch for her, man. She … she’s never learned how to love _anyone_ enough to stay, enough to never want to leave. I don’t know if she can change that much. Can stop searching.”

“Maybe she’s found what she’s been looking for,” Jim offered quietly.

“I hope so,” Blair replied fervently. “I’d really like her to have the kind of happiness I’ve got right now.”

Touched, Jim smiled at his words and squeezed his shoulder. “You worked some kind of magic with Darryl,” he said then. “Simon was really worried before the two of you came back. They both were.”

“Oh, he just needed some time to work his head around it all,” Blair said. But he turned to Jim, his expression and tone intense as he continued, “He’s figured it out, you know. About the senses. Said he never believed the press conference.”

Nodding solemnly, Jim signaled and turned onto Prospect. “Sorta explains why he’s been a bit cool toward me the last few months. Probably thinks I’m a jerk.”

Grinning, Blair teased, “Don’t worry, I set him straight, so he understands. And he thinks it’s pretty neat that you’re his brother-in-law now.”

Barking a laugh, Jim shook his head. “Good for him,” he replied fondly. “He’s a good kid, isn’t he?”

“The best,” Blair agreed. “He did have one weird idea, though. He was wondering if Sid Graham could have been my father.”

Snorting, Jim vigorously shook his head as he parked. “No way,” he retorted. “Too stupid to be related to you.”

“Ah, you say the nicest things!” Blair drawled, laughing as he got out of the truck. As Jim came around to meet him, he went on, “It’s weird to think of Simon as my father, though.” Looking up at his lover, he asked with a frown of concern, “Do you think this is going to be a problem downtown?”

“I don’t know,” Jim murmured. Sighing, he shrugged. “The Chief and the Commissioner know that we make a good team and, well, we kinda have to keep working together for it all to work.” Glancing at Blair he added, “But it could start the rumors up again, about why Simon brought you into the unit.”

“Yeah, I thought of that, too,” Blair returned soberly. But then he grinned. “Worth it, though. To see them both look so happy.”

Ruffling his hair, Jim smiled fondly. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he allowed. Taking a breath, he opened the door to the building and ushered his lover inside. “The people who matter know the score and who cares what the rest of them think, anyway,” he went on with fierce belligerence.

Not fooled for a minute, when they entered the elevator Blair slipped his arm around Jim’s waist and drew him close. “Stop worrying about me,” he ordered affectionately. “Stop wishing things were different. They are what they are, and we’re doing just fine.”

Beyond tightening his grip around Blair’s shoulders, Jim didn’t respond. His head bowed, he studied the floor and, when the elevator doors opened, he drew Blair out with him and down the hall. But once they were inside, he pulled Blair against him and held him close as he bent his head to capture his lover’s lips, kissing him passionately. Blair responded in kind and they clung together until they were both breathless. Lifting his head, Jim cupped Blair’s cheek tenderly and, for a long moment, looked deeply into his eyes.

“What?” Blair asked with a bemused smile.

“LaForce tried to scare you last night,” Jim rasped hoarsely. “Tried to say that you can’t count on me; that I’m fickle. That what we have won’t last. But that’s not true. I’m solid, Blair. I know you sometimes have trouble believing that and, God knows, I’ve given you reason enough to doubt. And you haven’t ever known any real constancy in your life, to know that it can exist for you. But … I’m constant. I love you and I’m never going to stop loving you, not so long as there is breath in my body.” Combing his fingers fondly through Blair’s curls, he added dryly, “And I’ll worry about you as much as I want; worry about what’s fair and what isn’t. Worry about keeping you safe. Worry about making sure I remember to tell you often enough that I love you. So you’re just going to have to learn to live with it, okay, Chief?”

Lips parted, Blair searched Jim’s steady gaze. His mouth tightened and he swallowed hard. Reaching up, he caressed Jim’s cheek with his fingertips and then, finally, a small smile curved his lips and he nodded. “Okay, Jim,” he replied solemnly. Gripping his lover’s arm, as if anchoring himself, he looked away and, with conscious vulnerability, he admitted, “Sometimes, when I least expect it, you blow me away. I don’t know how you knew that what he said last night really bothered me – my heartbeat, maybe? Or maybe you just know me so well? And then, today, with Naomi … Darryl asked me if I thought it would last. I wanted to tell him it would, but I couldn’t. I know she can’t really be trusted, but I _want_ to trust her, for Simon’s sake and Darryl’s, and even for myself – I really want to finally be able to trust her. It all just made me wonder, you know? If what _we_ have can last? I want this, _us_ , to last, Jim. I want that with everything that I am.” His voice caught and he stopped, his lips pressed together tightly. “But, sometimes,” he went on shakily, “I’m scared that it’s too good to last. That being this happy can’t be trusted.”

Jim drew him close and, wrapping his arms around him, rested his chin on the top of Blair’s head. “Don’t ever be afraid, Blair; don’t let anyone ever tell you different – what we have _is_ real. And not just because we’re sentinel and shaman, but because we’re who we are and because we love one another the way we do. We’ve already been through the fire, Chief. We’re gonna last.” After a moment, when he felt Blair’s emotions had calmed, he drew away enough to let Blair get out of his coat and to hang up his own.

And then he drew his beloved upstairs, to their bed.

Lying down together, skin to skin, with nothing between them, he kissed Blair gently and then murmured, “You are _not_ a mistake.”

Blair’s eyes widened with realization and he exclaimed, “You were listening!”

Smiling gently, Jim nodded. “Of course I was listening. For one thing, I can’t not be as close to you as I can be, even when I know I’m being intrusive. I home in on you, Chief, like a needle on a compass pointing due north. But … but it was more than that today. I knew you were doing your best to be happy for them, to reassure them, and to take care of Darryl. But who was taking care of you? I’ve never heard you say that before: that you were a mistake. But you weren’t and you aren’t. You … you’re a gift, Blair. To everyone in your life. And, especially, to me.”

“Ah, Jim,” he breathed. Gazing into Jim’s eyes, he searched for words that would adequately express the enormity of his emotions, but mere words could never do justice to the magnitude of his love and the sweet ache of gratitude that filled him. Poignantly, he pressed his lips against the pulse point in Jim’s throat, feeling the beat of the heart that yearned to shelter and protect him, that loved him so completely, even as his heart’s desire was to cherish Jim. His hands caressed Jim’s silken skin, roamed seductively over chest and back, and he could feel his lover’s hard need of him pressing against his hip. Tenderly but insistently pushing Jim over onto his back, he gifted him with all that he was, with all the ecstatic love in his soul, saying with touch – a language that would always mean more to Jim than words ever could – what was impossible to express any other way.

**  
 _  
Darkness bled over the crimson sky and swirled into the streets. Below him, he saw Jim straining to see through the murk, listening intently for the ghostly predator. Lightning cut a jagged path, shockingly bright against the black curtain of danger and, blinded, Jim flinched. In the distance, thunder growled. Dropping to the ground, heedless of the coming burning, bloody rain, he shoved Jim hard, pushing him under the balcony and against the building’s wall, sheltering him from the storm. He reached for his weapon, but he was unarmed. Afraid, he stood in front of his sentinel, waiting for the lion …_

 _… but he had no idea how to stop it when it came.  
_  
**

Late Monday night, Maxim stood at the floor to ceiling window that ran the length of the living room in his suite atop the Huntington Towers, the most exclusive hotel in Cascade. Looking out at the night lights of the city, he smiled, well satisfied. The young one sensed him, recognized his power, and was afraid. As well he should be, for he was untrained – but Maxim could feel the nascent power within the younger man, had seen it in those clear blue eyes. His lip curled disdainfully when he thought about the other one, the watchman. The two were paired but that only heightened the challenge; made it more … piquant, intriguing and, of course, more intoxicatingly dangerous.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Maxim thought about how richly satisfying it would be to have an apprentice; someone to teach the mysteries and how to bind the darkness. And the lad was beautiful, very beautiful. Domination over him would hold any number of pleasures. Nodding, he turned away from the window. Soon. The dance of conquest would begin soon.

But, though he’d not deny himself the carnal pleasure, his objective was nothing so mundane as the young one’s body. No, no. He craved ownership of that immaculate soul. Once he’d taught the neophyte all he knew, once Sandburg’s own powers were fully awakened, together there would be nothing they could not do. And then, as master, he’d take that powerful life force into himself, take the nuances of the enhanced skills and powers, and take the vitality of that bright soul – destroying utterly all that Sandburg was or would ever be in life or death – and become a dominant, irresistible force in the world by doing so.

However, those were pleasures yet to be savored and he had patience enough to enjoy the anticipation of success; there was, after all, no need to rush matters. For now, he had to deal with other pressing matters. Settling in the comfortable leather armchair, he closed his eyes, and went to work. Grinning devilishly as he made his rounds, he deliberately left clues of his presence behind – nothing that could be construed as evidence but a path, nevertheless, that the sentinel could discern.

T’would be amusing to have the guardian bring the lamb to him.

**

“Jim, you guys getting anything at all on that LaForce character?” Simon asked, after having given them a day and a half to run at it.

Morosely, Ellison shook his head. “Just a bunch of dead ends,” he muttered and sighed. More clearly, he went on, ticking the points off his fingers, “We can’t find evidence of any birth certificate in any state, or of naturalization papers. Can’t find any trace of him before ten years ago when he showed up in New York, appearing in supper clubs as a magician and earning considerable attention; from there, he fairly quickly rode the elevator of success to corporate inner sanctums, as a consultant of sorts. He’s got no evident experience in financial matters – just ‘picks winners’ out of the thin air.”

Beside him, Blair consulted his own notes. “I’ve talked to a few of his clients. They all find him to be highly intelligent, resourceful, intuitive and profitable. While they won’t go into details, they are pleased with the fortunes he helped them acquire.”

“So he doesn’t kill off all his marks?” Simon ruminated, his sarcastic tone revealing his persistent inability to credit ‘the psychic hand of death’ theory, though he was open to being persuaded that LaForce might have hired muscle to do the dirty work. “Maybe he is simply a talented psychic and the deaths were, well, whatever they appeared to be. Timely, but no more than that. Maybe he’s just lucky.”

“I don’t know,” Blair temporized uneasily. “I think there’s more here that we’re not seeing.”

“Where’s the evidence, Sandburg? Because there doesn’t appear to be anything to see,” Banks challenged. Before either detective could respond, he held up a hand to forestall further commentary. “We don’t have time to chase will o’ the wisps.” Holding a file toward them, he went on, “Not when it seems we have real crimes being perpetrated. We’ve gotten reports from several large firms in the city that think they may have been victims of industrial espionage – check it out.”

They looked at one another and then stood. “Could be LaForce, doing his homework.”

“Could be,” Simon allowed. “Or could be an ordinary crook. Let me know what you find.”

**

Jim shook his head with barely contained irritation when they entered the fifth corporate headquarters that day but, this time, the place wasn’t owned by strangers; this time, they were in the head office of Ellison Enterprises. Even before they left the elevator on the top floor, he could smell the residual trace of sulfur in the air. So far, beyond safes and locked drawers that had been willfully left open, privileged files scattered on desks, and the more subtle scent that he’d noticed LaForce favored the other night, there was nothing else to find. In two of the buildings, night watchmen sheepishly reported having thought they’d seen an intruder, dressed all in black, but when they looked again, there was no one there. And now, just like the previous four calls, none of the secure entries into the buildings had been forced. According to the crime scene technicians, there were no fingerprints other than of those who had rightful access. Neither was there any other physical evidence, like random strands of hair or threads of material, no trace of footprints on plush carpeting. He’d fared no better at any of the scenes. They were all clean.

Sure a case could probably be made that the invasion was an inside job – for one company, maybe. But there was nothing to tie the five companies together beyond the fact that they were rival businesses and they’d all been hit in the same way, in the same night. They couldn’t all be ‘inside jobs’.

A small furrow of anxiety on his brow, William watched his son and Blair examine the violated room. “What do you think?” he asked, glancing around at the mess of documents scattered on the floor and desks. “LaForce? Making a point?”

Jim grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “He’s playing with us, showing us there’s not a damned thing we can do to prevent his intrusion. He could have come and gone without leaving any trace of his presence.”

Nodding grimly, Blair could only agree. “But why? It’s like he wants us to go to him, to ask what he’s up to – maybe so that he can laugh and rub it in about how helpless we are to catch or stop him.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what he wants,” Jim mused, frowning thoughtfully, wondering why. And then he thought about Alex. “It’s a game to him,” he said firmly with a chill of foreboding, certain in his deductions. “He wants us to know that he’s better than we are. Wants to taunt us.”

“Yeah, I get that he wants to rub our noses in it. But there’s no indication from any of our research that he’s done anything like this before – unless the corporations he violated just didn’t report it. So why is he doing this now?” He looked from William to Jim, neither of whom had any suggestions. “I don’t like games where only the other guy knows the rules,” Blair groused. “This makes no sense.”

Jim gave him a feral grin. “Ah, hey, c’mon,” he cajoled. “You used to love the unexpected, making up the rules as we went along.”

“No, Jim, I didn’t particularly like it. Sometimes, it scared the hell out of me to know I was only making best guesses. But … but we’ve got rules we have to acknowledge, even if he doesn’t; rules about investigative procedure and criminal justice,” Sandburg challenged as he followed his partner back down the hall to the elevator. “If we can’t catch him legally, we can’t arrest him.”

Gazing at him speculatively as he waited for the elevator to arrive, Jim replied dryly, “But maybe it’s not that kind of game. I’m not sure a jail could hold this guy, anyway.”

“So what kind of game do you think it is?” William asked as he, too, entered the elevator, to ride down to the ground level with them. Standing with their backs to the doors, they stared through the glass wall at the city as the car descended, as if the answer was written somewhere out there.

“Guess that’s what we’ll find out,” Jim returned, with a shrug of his shoulders.

**

“He’s _playing_ with us?” Simon thundered. “Taunting us to show us how much better he is and that he can get away with murder?”

“Looks like it,” Blair replied, as he slapped the file closed. “Thirteen possible murders that we suspect so far. Not to mention pretty wanton corporate espionage on a grand scale, which we found out more about when we dug a little deeper. Some of his ‘satisfied customers’ finally admitted they were more or less coerced into doing business with him. But they don’t want to press charges because, well, they don’t want to admit their security systems were compromised and besides, he helped them make a bundle.”

For a long moment, Banks stared balefully at the two of them. “You know, it was bad enough to have to get comfortable with this sentinel business, especially when that she-devil showed up,” he grumbled. “And then you hit me with this shaman stuff, that neither of you seem to be able to explain very well. Now, you’re telling me we’ve got some kind of evil warlock in the city? C’mon. This isn’t Buffy, The Vampire Slayer. This is the real world. I don’t want to believe any of this.”

With a short bark of laughter, Jim nodded. “I know just how you feel.”

“But ignoring it won’t make it go away,” Blair interjected, giving them both stern looks.

“Won’t it? He’s always moved on before,” Simon challenged.

“After he’s murdered some poor schmuck,” Sandburg exclaimed, tossing his hands into the air.

“We can’t prove that,” Simon argued angrily, feeling helpless and loathing it.

“So, that’s reason enough to give him the keys of the city and let him do whatever the hell he wants?” Blair expostulated, disgusted. “This man is _dangerous_ , Simon! The only difference between him and your garden-variety corporate spy/murderer is that he uses the force of his will instead of cameras and guns.”

Sighing, Simon looked away to stare out the window. Shaking his head, he said quietly, “Unless you’ve got some suggestions about how to stop him, I’m not sure we’ve got any choice.” His expression was bleak when he turned back to them. “So, either of you got any bright ideas on how to handle this guy?”

Jim shook his head. “I can track him by scent; maybe we can catch him in the act,” he offered.

Blair frowned and thought about his recurring dreams or visions, or whatever they were. “I don’t know,” he muttered. Looking at each of the others, he said, “Even if we can track him, I don’t know how we can stop him. I think we need some help.”

“Manuel D’Angelo?” Jim guessed.

“No, someone a lot closer, if he’ll agree to help us,” Blair replied evenly. “Ben Thundercloud.”

Simon gave him a skeptical look and shook his head. But, his lips thinning, he waved them out. “Why not? Take your best shot. But remember: no vigilante action. You’re officers of the law. You either bring in proof we can use in court or … or you just try to persuade him to move along.”

“Leave him free to work his evil elsewhere, you mean?” Blair objected heatedly as he paused in the doorway. “C’mon, Simon. Does that really seem right to you?”

Banks shook his head. “No,” he admitted, sounding tired and careworn. “But neither does it seem right to meet evil with evil, Sandburg. We don’t just go out and kill people we don’t like or understand. Hell, I don’t know. Maybe we need an exorcism.”

Smiling grimly, Blair replied, “Relax, Simon. I don’t think we’re dealing with a demon here. I think … well, I don’t know what he is, exactly. But he’s flesh and blood, a man, just like the rest of us.”

“If he’s doing the stuff you think he’s doing, he’s not like any other man I’ve ever known,” Simon retorted. “Go on; see what Dan has to say about all this.”

However, on the way out, Rhonda waylaid them. “Blair, your mother called. And she said it was urgent that you call her back right away.”

Looking up his partner, Blair rolled his eyes at the quizzically sardonic expression on Jim’s face. Hastening to his desk, he called Simon’s place. “Naomi?” he said, and was well aware that Jim was listening, too.

 _“Blair, sweetie, I’ve been checking around with some of my friends about this Maxim LaForce.”_

“Mom,” he interjected firmly, “you should be leaving this to us. He could be dangerous.”

 _“He most certainly is dangerous! Blair, there are rumors that he’s more than a hundred years old!”_

“What? That’s not possible,” he retorted flatly.

 _“Would you just listen! Apparently, he’s not of European heritage, after all. He’s Native American and grew up during the time of the Indian Wars, when the aboriginal people were forced onto reservations. He was a young, powerful shaman who grew angry at the helplessness and the slaughter of his people – and vowed revenge,”_ she told him, her words spilling over one another in her haste to share what she’d learned. _“He’s become something of a myth, a legend – but I really think that’s who this person is. It all fits, Blair! The physical description; even his name, in a way. He was originally called Force of Nature because he could apparently harness nature to his will, but that changed over the years to Force of Darkness, because he moves in the night. And then, early in the century, he was known by those who feared him as all-powerful and unstoppable as Maximum Force, or more obscurely, Walks in Darkness. And, and I guess some say he’s the Lion of Death. He scares me, Blair,”_ she went on, her tone anxious. _“I think you should stay away from him. Far away.”_

Closing his eyes, Blair shook his head. “Okay, okay,” he hastened to reassure her, “I hear you. And we’ll bear all that in mind. We won’t take stupid chances. But we can’t just let him wreak havoc, Mom. We can’t.”

He heard her sigh heavily, so he added fervently, “I promise you, we’ll be careful.” Not in the least mollified, she sighed again and terminated the call.

“A hundred years old?” Jim echoed. “You actually believe any of that?”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Blair nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Yeah, it could be possible. But it means he’s a whole lot more than some black witch who foretells the future. C’mon, we’ve got to see Dan.”

“Chief, you really think we need to ask him to call Ben Thundercloud?” Jim asked uneasily. “We can handle this, right?”

“No, Jim, I don’t think we can, not on our own,” he replied as they made their way to the elevator. “This … this is outside our range of experience. And we’ve not gotten any of the training that Manuel told us we needed. It’s like … like a kid in kindergarten trying to go up against a university dean. No contest, man. No contest.”

**

His gaze averted, Dan listened with calm solemnity as they recounted their concerns and suspicions about Maxim LaForce, as well as the little they knew about him, and what Naomi had relayed only minutes before. When they finished, he rubbed his mouth and pondered their words. Finally, looking up at them, he said, “I’ve heard the legends about this person. If it is he, then you have a world of trouble on your hands.”

“Do you think Mr. Thundercloud will agree to help us? At least give us some ideas about what to do?” Blair asked with hopeful eagerness.

Leaning back in his chair, Dan shook his head uncertainly. “I don’t know. He rarely leaves the reservation because so many depend upon him there.” Frowning, he sighed. “But I’ll ask him. Clearly, you need help. If he cannot come himself, perhaps he can suggest someone. I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, man,” Blair said, relieved. Jim, less thrilled with having to seek assistance from strangers, only nodded.

As they stood to leave his office, Dan cautioned, “Perhaps you need to plan time away … to learn more about the powers and abilities you possess; to understand them.”

When Sandburg looked sheepish and muttered about their heavy caseload and only having so much holiday time, Wolf’s expression grew stern and uncompromising. “These abilities are not toys, Blair,” he cautioned heavily. “Not talents, like for music or art, to be ignored. You did that once at your peril and very nearly died. Do _not_ delay too long.”

Jim stiffened at the words of warning and, instinctively, he reached out to grip Blair’s shoulder, as if needing to keep him close. “You saying that … that we could wind up in similar trouble again?” he demanded sharply, fear coiling in his belly.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t take the chance,” Dan replied bluntly, even as he reached for the phone to call Ben Thundercloud. “You’re playing with fire, and fire can be _very_ unforgiving.”

Chastened, they both nodded as, mutely, they left Wolf’s office.

**

“Dan’s right,” Blair muttered as they stepped off the elevator and turned down the hallway toward the entrance to the Major Crime bullpen. “We’ve been back for months and I haven’t done a damned thing to learn more about being a shaman.”

Looping an arm around his shoulders, Jim replied, “ _We_ haven’t done anything, not just you. I guess … I guess I just don’t know where to start.”

Sighing, his mouth twisting unhappily, Blair shrugged. “I’ve got some books at home that I can research and there’s always stuff on the ‘net. But, well, we have been busy and … and I guess I’m stalling.”

As they made their way toward their desks, Jim shot him a puzzled look. “Stalling? Why?”

Hitching his hip on Jim’s desk, he replied, “Man, I’m still adjusting to being a cop. We’ve been through all these changes, so fast. I guess I’d just like to catch my breath before we get involved in all this other stuff, you know?” Blowing a long breath, he raked his hair back. “But, yeah, Dan’s right. Putting it off doesn’t make it go away.”

“You think reading those books, a bit of research, is enough?” Jim asked as he settled into his chair.

“No,” Blair responded, wishing he could dredge up some of his old enthusiasm for learning. But it was one thing to read and speculate about the mysteries; another to become part of them. So far, what he had experienced hadn’t been great. The visions and clairvoyant experiences he’d had were of terrible things that sickened him and wore him out; scared him, and left him with blinding headaches. The astral travel, or spiritwalking, was … fun, sort of. But he sensed that it wasn’t wise to do too much of it, or to be away from his body too long, and he feared getting stuck on the spirit plane with no way to return. Just knowing that he could meet other spirits there, and maybe very unfriendly ones, evil ones, had discouraged him from even trying the experience since before Christmas. And he still didn’t know how being a shaman would fit with being a cop.

Jim watched him and felt badly about the discouraged expression on his face. “What do we have to do?” he asked, unwilling to let it go.

“We need a shaman to teach us,” Blair sighed as he turned and headed to his own desk.

“Ben Thundercloud, maybe?” Jim suggested.

“Maybe, if he’d be willing to take us on.” Dropping into his chair, he added wryly, “They say when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Guess I’ve just been waiting for him to show up, and until he does, I’ve figured that I’m not ready.”

Rolling his eyes, Jim shook his head, but the phone rang before he could make any comment. “Ellison.”

 _“Jimmy, LaForce just called; said he wanted to follow up on our brief meeting at the party. Asked for an appointment tomorrow evening.”_

“You refused, right?”

 _“Uh, no, I didn’t,”_ William went on, sounding tense. _“He said it could be to our mutual benefit – and he mentioned projects that he couldn’t know about without looking at the secret files that were rifled last night. Very persuasive fellow – made the point that he’d also be meeting with some of my competitors.”_

“That’s extortion,” Jim growled, his lips thinning. “Okay, where and when? We’ll be there.”

 _“At the house; seven PM.”_

Jim confirmed they’d be present and terminated the call.

“What is it?” Blair asked, frowning at the furious expression on Jim’s face.

“The bastard is definitely trying to yank our chain,” Jim replied tautly, lifting his gaze to meet Blair’s. “He’s just coerced Dad into a private meeting tomorrow night.” Squinting as he looked away, he shook his head. “I just can’t figure out why he’s trying so hard to taunt us, to get us to take him on. Doesn’t make any sense. If there’s anything that we’ve learned about him so far, it’s that he usually stays well under the radar, never attracting official notice.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this is the first time he’s run up against a sentinel,” Blair said grimly, and shuddered as images of his nightmare visions flickered in his mind; visions that implied Jim was in deadly danger. “Not a whole lot of them patrolling the big cities of America, or anywhere else for that matter. I think he’s trying to draw you in, Jim. Set you up and take you out.”

His gaze dropping to stare at the top of his desk, Jim thought about that. “Maybe,” he allowed. Then he looked up to meet Blair’s worried eyes. “But you’re the one he singled out at that party. And he implied you couldn’t, maybe shouldn’t, trust me. Maybe he’s trying to … hell, I don’t know. Maybe he’s just bored. Doesn’t sound like he’s had much competition or encountered anyone who might stand a chance of stopping him for a long time. Maybe it’s all just a game to him.”

“Dangerous game,” Blair murmured as he sat back and drummed his fingertips on the desk. “He sure made it clear the other night that he knows I’m no threat to him.”

“Or maybe he was just trying to psych you out,” Jim suggested. “Maybe you’re more of a threat than he wants you to know.”

Blair bit his lip as he considered that idea, and then laughed hollowly. “Nah, I don’t think so,” he replied tightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to stop him – and my skills are nowhere near his. I think he knows that, and you know what?” he went on, lifting wide, anxious eyes to Jim’s steady gaze. “He’s beginning to scare the hell out of me because he’s way out of our league, Jim. Even you can’t stop someone who can walk through walls unseen and unheard.”

“Yeah, but I bet he doesn’t know I can feel his presence,” Jim said. “And that gives us an edge.” Standing, he reached for his jacket. “I’m tired of playing a defensive game, here. Wondering what he’s going to do next. I think we need to take the ball to him.”

“What?” Blair exclaimed, startled. But he reached for his jacket and pulled it on. “You want to confront him?”

“Sure, why not? Let’s see what he’s got to say for himself,” he replied. “What’s he gonna do? Turn us into frogs?”

Snorting, and then chuckling, Blair said, “God, I hope not. Hard to find a willing princess to kiss, especially around here.”

Leaning down as they made their way out of the office, Jim threatened teasingly, “I catch you kissing any princesses and promising ‘happily ever after,’ and it won’t be LaForce who you’ll have to worry about.”

Laughing at that, Blair grinned up at him. But then he sobered. “Just one thing – don’t look directly into his eyes, okay? I think he may have the power to mesmerize people but it’s a hypnotic thing. If he can’t hold full eye contact, he can’t do it.”

“See,” Jim encouraged, fondly ruffling his partner’s hair, just before the elevator opened, “you do have ideas about how to handle him. Don’t let him get to you, Chief. Just don’t let him get to you.” Stepping inside and pushing the button for the garage, he added dismissively, “Besides, we still don’t know if he’s more than a charlatan with great cat burglary skills. The Commissioner gave away enough about us for him to have spun an interesting story the other night when he was reading your palms. Or maybe he does have some psychic ability. Doesn’t mean he’s some kind of demon which, frankly, I’m not convinced even exist. So far, it’s all just rumor and speculation – and we may be allowing our imaginations to run away from us.”

“Maybe,” Blair sighed and then stiffened as he thought again about his disturbing nightmares. “But my gut instinct is he’s a helluva a lot more than a simple psychic.”

**

Opening the door of his suite, Maxim smiled with sardonic satisfaction when he saw the two men standing in the hall. “Ah, Detectives Ellison and Sandburg,” he exclaimed in exaggerated welcome. Standing aside and waving toward the sitting room, he encouraged, “Do come in. I was expecting you.”

“Really?” Jim challenged, not bothering to hide his antagonism as he moved past. “But then I guess foretelling the future is your specialty.” In the spacious, beautifully-appointed salon, Jim stood for a moment admiring the view over the city to the waterfront and the bay beyond. “Nice digs,” he commented dryly as he turned to regard LaForce.

“I’m enjoying the amenities,” Marcus agreed evenly and gestured toward the furniture. “Make yourselves comfortable. Can I offer you some refreshment? Coffee? Tea? Beer? Something stronger?”

“No, thanks,” Blair replied, looking around and then perching on the edge of a brocaded armchair. Jim chose to continue standing by the window.

Maxim looked from one to the other, and then moved to the bar to pour himself a glass of wine. Apparently completely at ease, he lifted the goblet in an informal toast. “I’m glad you came. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I welcome this opportunity to get to know you better.”

“That so?” Jim responded. “I hear you want to get to know my father better, too.”

With a slight smile, Maxim inclined his head and strolled toward a chair, where he settled gracefully. “Your father is one of the most successful men in Cascade,” he offered expansively. “I hope he’ll accept my services as a futurist investment consultant.”

“Uh huh,” Jim grunted, his expression stony. “And if decides he can do without your services?”

“Well, then, I’m sure I’ll have more success with any number of his competitors,” LaForce replied urbanely, with a negligent shrug. He shifted slightly so that his wine glass was illuminated by a beam of bright light from the window, and he twirled the iridescent ruby liquid languidly. After a moment, he looked up and saw that Jim’s attention had been caught by the luminous, shifting colors and, satisfied, he set the glass on the small table beside his chair. “Good,” he murmured softly and then, leaning forward, focusing on Blair, he went on, “It’s you I most wanted to speak with.”

Frowning, Blair looked up at Jim and, seeing him staring into space, he swiftly stood to move to his partner’s side, putting himself between LaForce and Ellison.

“Leave him for a moment; he’s in no danger,” Maxim urged, his tone carefully engaging. “We have things to say to one another and your … partner would only interrupt. You came for information, did you not? So, ask your questions.”

His gaze narrowing, his tone tight and belligerent, Blair demanded, “What do you want?”

Smiling, Maxim gestured with one hand, taking in the luxurious salon. “Wealth, comfort, the good things in life,” he replied genially. “What do you want?”

Taken aback by the subtle challenge, Blair blinked. “I want my life to matter.”

“To whom? For what purpose?” Maxim shot back mockingly, though his tone remained mild. “I see great potential in you, but it is lying fallow, undeveloped. Why? Why do you avoid the power that’s within you?” His tone became more pointed as he asked, “And why do you carry that weapon, when you hate it?”

“It’s my job,” Blair replied bluntly, and then wondered why he was the one answering questions. Laying a light hand on Jim’s arm to anchor himself, he said, “We’ve learned a bit about you – some of it speculative; some of it pretty hard to believe. For instance, there’s a rumor that you’re closer to a hundred years old than forty.”

Nodding unconcernedly, he admitted, “I am. One hundred and thirty-nine, to be precise.” Waving off the tentative nature of the discussion, he leaned forward, his mesmerizing gaze compelling. “Blair, I’m a shaman – or perhaps, more properly, a sorcerer. I’m sure you’ve figured that out. I’ve had decades to hone my abilities and powers. I could be of great assistance to you – I could teach you.”

“To be like you?” Blair challenged, shaking his head. The idea of being anywhere near this man, working with him, made his skin crawl. “Shamans help others. You only seem to help yourself.”

Snorting, Maxim smiled in derision. “Depends on your definition. I’ve helped many rich men grow much richer. Why should I subsist in a hovel? Hide my powers – be mocked for them? And don’t tell me you haven’t used your abilities for your own uses. To explore the world around you? To roam the spirit plane out of curiosity? I’ve seen you there, young one. With your wolf.” Looking at Jim, he stated flatly, “I know you nearly did yourself damage, reaching beyond your abilities to heal him when he was on the verge of death, simply because you could not bear to let him go.” His tone hardened. “Don’t lecture me about using our gifts for personal reasons, not when you’ve done the same.”

Unable to deny the charge, suddenly feeling off-balance, Blair’s gaze fell away. “I’ve only recently come to understand what I am,” he muttered.

“And you need someone to guide you, to help you understand and attain your potential,” Maxim urged charmingly. “I can do that, be your master, your mentor.”

“Why? Why would you want to?”

Sighing, LaForce settled back into his chair and gazed at his manicured nails. “Lately, I’ve found life to be tedious,” he admitted. “I’d relish a new project, someone worthy of my interest.”

Astounded by the gall of the man, Blair gave him an incredulous look. He blinked, looked away and gave himself a shake. This discussion wasn’t about him. “We’re pretty sure you killed, or had killed, more than a dozen men in the last ten years or so,” he accused as he leveled his somber gaze on LaForce. “For personal gain; for greed.”

“I was always somewhere else, in public view, when those men died, as you well know,” Maxim replied, tacitly admitting his guilt with a smug smile. “But you’ve also killed.” Again, regarding Jim thoughtfully, he went on tauntingly, “Personal gain is in the eye of the beholder, young one. You don’t value wealth – but you do value him.”

“Life is sacred. I regret having to take it and only do so when there is _no_ other option,” Blair argued, belatedly realizing he’d once again allowed the conversation to be manipulated. His grip on Jim’s arm tightened, physically tethering himself to his partner.

“Sacred? Really?” Marcus mocked, his tone bitter. “Tell that to those who confined my people on land that could not support them, where they starved or died of foreign diseases, in misery and privation,” Standing, he leveled a finger at Blair and charged angrily, “You think I didn’t have more noble dreams once, a long time ago? Foolish and utterly futile dreams – until I watched my wife and children suffer and die simply because others defined them as being unworthy of life.” He lowered his hand and he took a deep breath, as if to calm himself, but his black eyes still sparked with rage. “Do not mock me, and do not provoke me. Above all, do not judge me – you haven’t the right. I am what my world, my life made me, young one.”

“You are what you choose to be,” Blair retorted, refusing to be intimidated by the histrionics. “You’ve chosen to be something repugnant.”

Sighing, Maxim shook his head. “I’m sorry you think so,” he said, as if regretted Blair’s harsh assessment. But his tone hardened, as did his gaze, as he went on, “However, I’m used to getting what I want. And what I want right now is you.” Glancing at Jim and back to Blair, there was threat in his voice as he asked, “What will it cost to acquire your agreement? Hmm? You say life is sacred – are you willing to gamble lives you value simply to remain free?”

At the blatant threat, Blair gaped at LaForce and then anger surged at the man’s brutal and arrogant self-assurance. His fists clenched and he ached to tackle the guy and, after wiping the floor with him, slap cuffs on his wrists. But then he realized that he was again reacting emotionally and was on the verge of losing control. Reining himself in, he wondered what it was about this guy that so badly got under his skin. Dealing with threats and intimidation tactics were never any fun, but Blair knew LaForce was trying to play him, so why was he falling for it? Why couldn’t he seem to get a grip here? But his aversion to LaForce was bone-deep and very personal, his rage barely leashed … and the fear and confusion he felt in the man’s presence were equally disturbing.

Without waiting for a reply, LaForce settled his tailored jacket more comfortably on his shoulders. His smile was cold as he offered, “Think about it for the next day or so. What there is to win – or lose. What you are willing to pay and what you could gain. I can give you the world, Blair. Accept my offer and we’ll move along, together; leave your precious friends and your city in peace. Refuse me … and you’ll have fewer of those sacred lives you value so much to treasure in the months and years ahead.”

“Your threats don’t frighten me,” Blair bluffed, though his throat had gone dry and, once again, he had a nearly overwhelming urge to wipe that smug smile off the creep’s face.

Maxim shook his head as if disappointed. “Don’t lie, Blair. It doesn’t become you and it’s an insult to me. Of course I know you’re terrified of me – as well you should be. You sense my power. You _know_ you’re helpless before me – and you don’t like feeling helpless, do you?”

“You’re wrong; we _will_ find a way to stop you,” Blair argued, doing his best to sound confident, but the sheer magnitude of the evil emanating from LaForce unnerved him. Stepping in front of Jim, very consciously shielding his partner, his voice shook as he laid down his own challenge, “You stay away from the people I love. I will _not_ let you hurt them.”

“You?” Maxim snorted with laughter, his veneer of sophistication gone. “You and your watchman haven’t a hope in hell of stopping me from doing whatever I please to do. Look at him,” he gestured with contempt. “He’s helpless and it only took … what? Less than a minute to render him inert. As for you? A pup would have more success challenging a lion than you have of taking me on.” Maxim took a step closer and lowered his tone as he warned, “Submit, Blair. Submit or watch those you care about die. If I were inclined to kindness, I’d kill you with them. But I’m not, so if you challenge me, you shall live to remember that your stubborn ego cost what you most hold dear.” Glancing at his wristwatch, he picked up the overcoat draped across the back of his chair. “I’m late for an appointment. Once you’ve brought your friend back from never-never-land, let yourselves out, would you? I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon.”

With that and no backward glance, he strode out of the suite, not quite slamming the door behind him.

“Arrogant bastard,” Blair growled as he fought off the urge to shudder with aversion. Turning to Jim, he arched a brow and demanded impatiently. “You gonna make like a statue all day or can we go now?”

Jim gave him a glacial smile and stretched. “At least he didn’t turn us into frogs. And now we know he’s not omniscient,” he replied, his tone taut as he leashed his own anger at the threats LaForce had made. “Too damned arrogant to believe anyone can resist his will. It’s pretty clear he knows about my senses. He wanted me to zone so he assumed I had. Being able to fool him might come in handy. As a minimum, we both witnessed his little performance here.” He looked down at his angry partner as they crossed the carpeted floor. “Thought I might have to stop you from ripping his head off, though. You were letting him get to you, Chief.”

Out in the hallway, striding toward the elevator, Blair seethed with frustrated fury. After punching the down button, he shook his clenched fists, as if he had LaForce’s throat within their grasp, and growled low in his throat.

“Easy, Chief,” Jim soothed, draping an arm around his stiff shoulders. “You did good, just letting him talk. At least now we’ve got some idea of his game plan.”

Snorting, Blair shook his head. “He wants to make me his _sorcerer’s apprentice?_ ” he exclaimed, his pitch rising with frustrated irritation.

“Maybe we could start calling you Mickey Mouse?” Jim teased.

“Why me? What is it about me that attracts all the crazies?” he demanded, ignoring the Disney dig, taking refuge in anger to hold off the fear that LaForce had inspired. “You attract murderous women and I attract nutcases.”

“Well, you’re pretty cute,” Jim ventured, playfully tugging on a long lock of hair. “I can see why they all want to take you home with them.”

“Then I should be getting the women,” he asserted.

“Not that kind of cute, Chief,” Jim drawled, looking him up and down. “More like bouncy puppy dog cute.”

“Oh, thanks a heap,” he sighed and raked back his hair, but the teasing had worked. Calming down, he got his mind back in gear. “So, we’ve got definite murder threats here – what are we going to do about them?”

As they entered the elevator, Jim shook his head. “I’m still wondering if he’s bluffing, doing his intimidation routine to extort cooperation.”

“Yeah, well, if he works his mojo tomorrow night and massacres you and your father to prove his point, then I guess I’ll know he’s willing and able to deliver on his threats,” Blair retorted with heavy sarcasm. “Jim, I’m not convinced that just because he’s arrogant, he can’t do what he says he can do. I think he killed those other poor bastards during spiritwalks.”

“Have to admit, I’m coming around to your way of thinking about the possibility of that,” Jim agreed, though his tone remained reluctant. Stepping into the lobby, he scratched his cheek. “But right now, I find it more interesting that he took the gloves off up there – and made it pretty clear why he’s been deliberately challenging us. He wants you to work with him, by force if necessary, rather than against him.” Eying his partner speculatively, he said, “I’d say it’s pretty clear that whatever power he senses in you worries him – a lot. He doesn’t want you arrayed against him.”

“Well, he sure screwed up trying to win me over,” Blair snarled, his anger – fueled by a sense of helplessness that frightened him – again flaring. “But I’m damned if I know how to take him on at his own game.”

“Calm down, Chief,” Jim counseled. “He’s pulling your chain, trying to keep you off-balance. We need to do some thinking, and maybe some research, to figure out what it is about you that worries him.”

They pushed through the revolving door out onto the street. Looking up over his shoulder at Jim, Blair complained, “I can’t believe you’re so cool about this. When he was giving his spiel up there, I thought you’d blow up. How can you not be angry about what he said, the threats he made?”

Eyes suddenly the arctic blue of blisteringly cold ice met his. “Oh, I’m angry,” Jim assured him flatly. “And I’m going to get this guy, one way or another. We’re gonna shut him down.”

“We hope,” Blair grunted as he climbed into the truck, not at all as sanguine as was Jim that LaForce was bluffing. Or that there was any way of stopping him.

**

On the way home, they reported to Simon by cell phone, explaining that they were going to do some research with the hope of figuring out how to nail LaForce, or at least stop him from rampaging through Cascade. When they got to the loft, Blair hauled out all the texts he had about shamanism and sorcery, and plugged in his laptop to search the net while Jim perused the printed material.

Several hours later, Jim closed the last textbook, rubbed his eyes and realized he was starving. Pushing up off the sofa, he stretched and saw that Blair was concentrating deeply on something he was reading on the screen. Memories of innumerable evenings of their years together cascaded through his mind; so many nights when he’d trudged up to bed while Sandburg worked on through most of the night. Shaking his head, he wondered if he’d ever adequately shown how much he’d appreciated Blair’s efforts to keep up with his own work while doing all he could to support ‘his sentinel’. Regretfully, Jim knew he hadn’t; in fact, he had taken Blair too much for granted far too much of the time. But there was nothing he could do about the past; he could only do better now and in the future.

Moving to stand behind his partner, he dropped his hands onto Blair’s shoulders and lightly massaged the tight muscles. “How’re you doing?”

“Mmm, that feels good,” Blair sighed, bowing his head and closing his eyes even as he arched his back like a cat up into Jim’s grasp. For a moment, he simply enjoyed the indulgence in silence and then he said with a sigh of discouragement, “There’re so many different sites – but not a whole lot of different or new information. It’s all definitional, the ‘what’, but not the ‘how’.”

“Uh huh,” Jim grunted. While he kneaded Blair’s shoulders, he thought about what he’d read. For so many years, he’d resisted the mystical, wanting everything to be concrete, cut and dried. He still found it uncomfortable to believe that the ‘mysteries’, as his partner called them, were real – more, that he was actively hoping that the search of what he wouldn’t so long ago have scoffed at as irrational fantasies might hold the answers they needed. But so much had happened in the past year or so; he couldn’t deny any longer that visions and spirits and all the rest of what he now thought of as shamanistic lore was important and valuable, even essential, in their lives. Smiling to himself, he felt a modest pleasure that, apparently, even an old dog like him could learn a few new tricks. After another couple minutes of loosening taut muscles, he said, “Finish up what you’re working on while I make some soup and sandwiches for dinner. And then we’ll compare notes.”

“‘Kay,” Blair mumbled, his attention again on the esoteric information on the screen.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim served up minestrone soup lightly dusted with grated parmesan cheese, and grilled ham, tomato and cheese on rye sandwiches, with mugs of steaming coffee.

Blair sniffed the air appreciatively and, leaving his computer, switched seats at the table to sit at his usual place near the corner beside Jim. “This is great,” he praised, digging in. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

Smiling, Jim nodded and dipped his spoon into the soup. After a few mouthfuls, he said, “From what I read, it seems there are different kinds of shaman. The more traditional are either hereditary, people with gifts passed genetically, like me, or called, those who go through a … a death experience, like you. The latter appear to be the more powerful. Right, so far?”

Blair nodded. “Plus there are people without hereditary gifts who want to be shamans, who choose to be, rather than are chosen. They usually don’t have the same level of skill or power, but they can learn to commune with the spirit world and so on. Given that LaForce has been around for a hundred years or so, he’d be a traditional shaman: gifted or called.”

“I’m betting he was gifted,” Jim replied. “Not that I have any evidence of that but, well, it seems to me that anyone who was called, who went through what you did, wouldn’t, uh, mess with the powers the way he does. Wouldn’t, I don’t know, discount the purpose or reason for being a shaman the way he does. He seems to take what he can do for granted, as if it’s his birthright, sorta like I used to take my senses for granted. I didn’t earn them – they’re just there.”

“Maybe,” Blair reflected, considering the idea. “Might explain his arrogance. But his powers, if I’m right about him and I think I am, are pretty damned scary.”

“How he uses them are scary,” Jim debated. “But the powers themselves may not be all that special. If _I’m_ right, then that might be one reason you present a problem or challenge for him. Basically, fundamentally, you start from a stronger power position.”

Grimacing, Blair half-shook his head. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Think about it,” Jim urged. “We’re pretty sure this guy kills – but can he heal? We know he can do astral travel or spiritwalking, or at least we’re assuming that’s how he gets in and out of places without being seen, and he seems to have some clairvoyant ability, but that’s about it. Maybe it’s not that he’s so all-fired powerful, as he’s just gotten really good at the few things he can do.”

Blair nodded uncertainly but made no comment, so Jim carried on. “One of those books talked a lot about shaman ecstasy – the ability to purposefully go into a trance for spiritual purposes, to commune with the ancients or lost spirits or whatever. Okay, so, if he does his spiritwalking while at public functions, we know he has considerable control over that – but can he go into visions at will? We know you can. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but when you were profiling those serial killers, you could put yourself under – and without the use of drugs. But maybe that’s just spiritwalking and clairvoyance, too. Have you ever had an ecstatic experience, other than the one we shared in the pool in the Temple? Or … or I guess we could also count the one we shared at the fountain.”

“On my own? No, I haven’t,” Blair replied, frowning. “I’ve, uh, never tried.” Pausing, he went on hesitantly, “Unless we can count the times when I’ve gotten together with Woot. Or, well, sometimes when I’ve been meditating, I’ve felt, I don’t know, a kind of oneness, a sense of enlightenment and completion. But it’s been pretty vague, undirected.” Sitting back, he raked his fingers through his hair. “But I think all that would pretty much come under the heading of spiritwalking – just on the spirit plane rather than in this reality.”

Looking away, Jim pondered that while he munched on his sandwich. “I have visions, or I used to,” he ruminated. “But I can’t call them up, not like you can.” Turning back to Blair, he went on, “Maybe … maybe you should try to have a spiritual vision. Maybe the spirits would have some suggestions about what to do about LaForce.”

Though Blair was looking right at him, Jim had the sense that his partner was suddenly far away and wasn’t seeing him at all. “Chief?” he prompted. “What do you think?”

Blinking, Blair came back to him. He bit his lip and then shrugged diffidently. “I’m not sure this is something I want to play around with,” he temporized.

“Sandburg, this guy has killed people and has threatened to kill Dad, me and maybe you,” Jim retorted impatiently, irritated to encounter resistance from Blair – the one who used to extol the importance of the mysteries – just when he was doing all he could to embrace them, even if it all still very foreign to him and made him uncomfortable as hell. “I’m not sure I’d categorize trying to get some answers here as ‘playing around’.”

His gaze dropping, Blair pushed his half-eaten meal away. “You’re right,” he sighed. “It’s just that … it makes me nervous. We don’t have a clue what we’re doing and this … people have been known to get lost in visions, Jim. Some end up insane.”

Reining in his need to do something, to make progress, to get a grip on the inexplicable, Jim leaned back and scratched his head. “Well, I think if that was going to happen, it would have already. You’ve … you’ve gone through some pretty tough shit in the past year or more, and you’re still sane.”

Flicking a look up him, Blair gave a small grin. “Some people might argue that.”

Chuckling, comforted by the fact that he wasn’t the only one who found all this stuff unnerving, Jim nodded. Leaning back in his chair, knowing how much he’d resent being pushed to do something that he wasn’t sure he wanted to do, he felt his impatience ebb away. Lifting a hand, his tone conciliatory, if still encouraging, he said, “Okay, look, all I’m saying is, even untrained, I think your powers are greater than LaForce’s, and I think he knows it. And – from what I’ve read – I think it might be worth trying this vision stuff. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. It’s your call.”

Blair studied him, and reflected on the threats LaForce had made earlier that day, and on the visions he’d had where it seemed to him that Jim was very much the one in danger. With another confrontation looming at William Ellison’s home the next evening, they didn’t have a lot of time to get a grip on the situation. Swallowing, he squared his shoulders. “What did you learn about visions in those books you were reading?” he asked.

“Well, it was all pretty general – not a lot of detail,” Jim reflected as he ordered his thoughts. “I guess there are different ways of getting into a vision, like the drugs we used in Mexico – which you know I don’t advocate – and visions can be used to commune with the spirit guides or other spirits, for enlightenment, or to guide lost souls after death, that sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing,” Blair echoed and, with a half-smile, shook his head bemusedly as if he couldn’t quite believe they were having this discussion. “A person can do various things to enter an ecstatic vision state, from listening to rhythmic music, like drumming, and meditation, to using drugs or sex, and even the chakra points on the body, as entry ways or tunnels to the spirit plane.” Looping his hair back behind his ears, he went on, “The motivation for seeking the vision, even for being a shaman, is really important. It’s about wanting to serve, to help others; to learn truth or to heal, to obtain guidance. LaForce has really perverted all of that. So, yeah, you’re right. Maybe we could learn something from the spirits.” He paused and looked at Jim for a long moment, an expression of open affection on his face. “You know, you’ve come an awfully long way to be having a discussion like this. I remember, not so long ago, you wouldn’t even admit you had visions.”

Sighing, Jim shrugged ruefully. “Denial didn’t do me much good, Chief – and it almost cost me everything that matters most to me. We’re lucky we made it through the last year. Damned lucky that you didn’t die.” Leaning forward, his forearms on the table, he covered Blair’s hand with his own and said with raw intensity, “I don’t want to screw around again and risk all we have. Dan scared me today. We need to start paying attention to this stuff, not keep putting it off.”

Soberly, Blair nodded. Turning his hand, he squeezed Jim’s and then he stood to gather up their bowls, plates and utensils. “After we clean up here,” he said, his tone tight and his body tense, “I’ll try. I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’ll try to engage the spirits.”

Rising as well, hearing the anxious note in his partner’s voice, Jim reached out to grip his arm reassuringly. “Not alone, Chief. I’ll do whatever I can to help, to watch over you, to see you through this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Blair replied, his eyes wide as he looked up into Jim’s earnest gaze. “I don’t think I’d have the courage to try this without you.”

Picking up their mugs, Jim followed him into the kitchen. “So, how do we do this?”

Shrugging as he filled the sink with water and detergent, Blair said, “I’ll get out the candles and put on some drums. Then I’ll get comfortable upstairs and use meditation to achieve a trance state.”

“The books all mentioned sex as a means of achieving ecstasy, Chief,” Jim suggested awkwardly, not sure whether his idea would be welcome or not. Half-jesting, but also with considerable sincerity, he went on, “I don’t mind worshipping your body, if that will help.”

Snickering, Blair looked up at him. “Well, it’s not something I’ve ever consciously tried before, to _actually_ reach Nirvana, I mean, but … yeah, I want you involved in this, a part of it, because … because I don’t think I’m whole anymore without you.” His voice caught and he turned his attention back to the dishes. When Jim gently gripped and kneaded his shoulder, evidently greatly moved by his words, Blair went on huskily, “You know, man, just the _thought_ of you worshipping my body puts me on the edge of ecstasy. Thanks. Thanks for wanting to do this, to help me through this. For … well, for everything you are to me.”

Slipping his arms around Blair’s waist, drawing him close, Jim bent to press his lips against Blair’s temple. “Works both ways, Chief,” he murmured emphatically. “I love you, Blair. So much.”

“And I thank the Universe every day that you do,” Blair replied with warm gratitude, and leaned back into Jim’s embrace. “To be completely honest, I give thanks several times each and every day.” He turned his head, and Jim found his lips and kissed him deeply – a promise of what was to come.

When they were finished the cleanup of the kitchen, they put fresh sheets on their bed. And then Blair chose the drumming CDs he wanted and put them on the player. While Jim showered, he set a score of white candles around the loft, but did not light them. When Jim was finished, Blair switched on the CD, put more candles in the bathroom, along with some incense, and asked Jim to light the rest and turn out the lights, while he also showered, so they would both be ritually clean.

While the hot water coursed over his body in the dim light, with the pulse of drums filling his ears, Blair breathed the incense and closed his eyes, asking whoever might be listening for patience with him, with them. It was one thing to meditate, to find peace, balance, tranquility, a sense of being centered and at one with the Universe – another to go actively seeking contact with wise ones to ask for their help and the sharing of their knowledge and, perhaps, of their power. He’d never attempted this before and he was nervous – very nervous – of offending the spirits. Breathing deeply, to cleanse himself inside as well as out, he focused on the cadence of the drums until they filled his mind.

Once he had dried himself off, his hair still damp, he left the steamy bathroom and felt chilled by the cooler air in the corridor. Flickering candlelight seemed to dance with the rhythm of the drums, and shadows swayed in the corners and on the ceiling. He paced up the stairs, deliberately not hurrying and chose to view the cold he felt as a kind of test, a trial, to be endured without complaint. Jim was waiting for him, standing tall and golden in the uncertain light, and Blair’s breath caught in his throat at the beauty of the man before him.

Blair had placed oil on the bedside table earlier, and now he warmed some in his palms. Turning to his partner, he sensuously anointed Jim’s body as he said solemnly, “My friend, my lover, my sentinel. I am yours and you are mine through this lifetime and for all time. Help me reach the spirits. Help me gain their knowledge and understanding so that, together, we may triumph over this evil that threatens us and our tribe.”

When he finished, he poured oil into Jim’s palms, who tenderly anointed Blair’s body, murmuring with hoarse sincerity, “My friend, my lover, my guide and my shaman. I am yours and you are mine through this lifetime and for all time. I will help you reach the spirits, so you may gain the knowledge and understanding we seek, so that, together, we might triumph over this evil that threatens us and our tribe.” He bent to brush Blair’s lips and then stood back as Blair positioned himself on his back on the bed.

Blair felt more vulnerable and open than he ever had before when approaching meditation. Usually, he chose the lotus position, one that was more closed with crossed legs and arms circled along the body, hands on his knees. On the rare occasions when he’d deliberately sought visions to help him profile killers, he’d curled protectively on his side on the sofa down in his study. Stretched out on his back like this, he felt exposed and he trembled. Jim knelt down beside him and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “I’m here,” he assured softly. “I’ll watch over you.”

Blair gave him a grateful smile. “Give me fifteen or so minutes to get into a trance, okay? And … and I don’t know how I’ll react … I mean, I might be pretty out of it,” he cautioned uneasily.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here. You’re safe.”

With a slight nod, and a heavy swallow to calm the butterflies in his gut, Blair settled his arms by his side, closed his eyes, took deep, slow breaths … and let himself drift with the beat of the drums. In his mind, he chanted over and over with the throbbing rhythm, _Please help me deal with this evil. Please help us save our tribe. Please share your wisdom and show me the way._

The drum beats, loud enough to surround Blair, pulsed through Jim’s body as he watched Blair gradually relax. Sweet, clean, vanilla scent from the candles mingled with the more pungent incense that clung to Blair’s damp curls; the deeper, herbal green notes of the oils that anointed their bodies overlaid the smell of crisp, fresh linen and Blair’s natural, musky scent. Gradually, he became aware that their hearts began to beat in tandem with the cadence of the drums, and the pattern of their breathing had aligned. Briefly, Jim was afraid he, too, might slip into a trance but he grounded the stimulation of his senses of hearing and smell with the warmth of Blair’s shoulder under his palm, and the sight of Blair’s body stretched out before him.

As the minutes passed, he found himself indulging in the opportunity of simply looking at his beautiful partner: the strong, clean line of Blair’s jaw, the breadth of his brow and the length of his dusky eyelashes, the generous curve of his lips. His curls, still damp and springy, surrounded his head like a halo that glowed like burnished copper in the candlelight. His body was lean and muscled, glistening with oil, mysterious and masculine with the dark swirls of silken hair on his chest spiraling down to his abdomen, and then widening again to the patch of wiry nest that cradled his partial arousal; strong shoulders and chest, narrow hips and straight, well-formed limbs, slender feet and sensitive hands; sturdy and yet, in this light, in these moments, so open and vulnerable. Jim thought of Blair’s smile just before he’d closed his eyes and set off on this strange quest, his brave smile as he’d laid himself down as a willing sacrifice on the altar of their need for knowledge, and a lump filled his throat.

Emotions rose in his chest, all that he felt for this man, and his eyes misted with the depth of his feelings. Blinking away the stinging salt burn, sniffing, he licked his lips and swallowed to moisten his mouth, made dry by desire. The body before him held such an indomitable spirit, one that had absorbed such hurt and betrayal, and had such power that it had returned even after the body had died; returned for _him_ , at his call. That spirit loved him with tenderness and grace such as he’d never known in his life, and with a wanton, joyful passion that sometimes humbled him. For years, he’d taken Blair’s love and care for him for granted, even as his due; for years, he’d not given much of himself back – and his hesitancy, his reluctance to trust, to acknowledge his need of this man had very nearly cost Blair’s life, more than once. For him, Blair had given up his career, one he’d worked diligently to achieve for nearly half his life. For him, Blair had taken up a weapon and learned to kill. For him: to protect and safeguard him, always putting him first. That brilliant mind and stalwart, loyal heart, that incredible spirit of courage and compassion, loved him with a purity and simplicity that staggered him, and that made him whole.

As Blair relaxed deeper into his meditative trance, Jim began to consider how he would touch him, to bring him consummate pleasure such that he was lifted into an ecstatic state through the experience of being loved thoroughly. Deciding how he would proceed, Jim reached for the bottle of oil and warmed more of the thick, viscous liquid in his palm. As the minutes counted down, he opened himself in preparation for what he planned to do.

Blair’s respirations deepened and slowed, and the muscles of his body were lax. Jim knew it was time.

Time to worship Blair’s body as he’d jokingly said he would be glad to do. But what he felt in these moments, now that the time had come, was poignantly reverential. Reaching out, he cupped Blair’s face and bent to chastely kiss the corner of his mouth, and then his fingers drifted over Blair’s jaw and down along the column of his throat. As he kissed the pulse point there and exulted in the throb of life under his lips, his hands ghosted over Blair’s shoulders and arms, not quite touching but lifting the delicate hairs, a susurration of affinity and longing. Straightening, he caressed his partner’s chest, feeling muscle and bone, lingering over the sensitive, hard nubs and then he bent again to suckle one, while his thumb and fingertip toyed with the other. He smiled when Blair moaned softly and arced his chest up to his mouth. Pulling back, he blew across the tender skin, and his fingertips trailed downward, following the path of soft, dark hair. He could feel warmth building in Blair’s body and see the blush of need on his chest. Sniffing, he could smell his lover’s arousal before he turned to look; his hand curled around his partner, possessively, knowingly.

Jim bent to probe Blair’s scrotum with the tip of his tongue, while his fingers massaged lightly. Then his tongue followed the thick vein upward, and he felt the pulse of Blair’s life resonate with the beat in his ears. Inhaling deeply, he filled himself with his lover’s scent, the heady, musky scent of full arousal and need. Delicately, he blew over the sensitive tip and then again applied his tongue, lightly, enticingly, before his lips covered his lover, one hand fisted around him while the fingers of the other drifted back and, well-oiled, slipped into the dark recess of his partner’s body. Blair moaned again, his legs parting naturally, and a hand came to rest on Jim’s head, fingers entangling with his hair, wanting him, needing him.

Deep in his meditative trance, Blair’s body responded languorously at first, as if he was only distantly aware of the sensations that were building within him. But Blair’s body was hot now, no longer chilled by the air, flushed with need and want, achingly ready for Jim’s ministrations. Slowly at first, Jim pumped and probed, stroked and sucked, and then with more vigor, lavished Blair with the love in his heart and soul. He could feel tremors ripple through Blair’s body and then his hips began to heave and thrust, his fingers curling into fists as he moaned with deep pleasure, even as his body plainly craved more.

 _He’d been drifting in a nebulous, timeless fog littered with dots and zigzagging lines that floated before his eyes, his chanted plea loud in the silence of his mind. In the distance, he heard the beating of his heart, inside and outside and all around, like solid sound. There was a luminescence in the fog, a light that he couldn’t quite make out, there, just out of reach, but he was content in the space of peace and tranquility that he recognized well when meditation helped him find his center. Then, distantly at first, he felt warmth fill him; the heat built, becoming a fire in his belly, and he gasped for more breath. Though he felt disembodied, he also felt the sure, strong touch on his body, and he felt that familiar sweet ache deep inside that could only be assuaged by that touch that he craved more than water or food or air. Shivering with that need, and then swept by the irresistible pulse of desire, the sensation of loving and being loved filling him with a rush, so that he had the strange sensation of being on the edge of overflowing the bounds of his spirit … and he hesitated. Afraid._

His partner’s breathing shortened until he was gasping and he was close, very close – when, with one smooth, graceful motion, Jim lifted himself up and over Blair’s body, and eased his greater weight down with infinite care and love.

Blair cried out and his body responded to the tight hot sheath, thrusting again and again, deeper, ever deeper, as they merged as one being, united by a love so powerful, so compelling, that it defined them, their reality. Jim’s own need was intense and he fisted himself so that they stroked in a shared cadence, driven by the drums, the wild, demanding drums that throbbed in the air around them. And in their blood.

Jim watched Blair’s flushed face, and felt the nearly frenzied shudders of his lover’s body as they strove toward completion. Blair inhaled deeply, his lips parted, and he cried out as he convulsed with his orgasm, the pulsing heat of his seed deep within igniting Jim’s own. For the space of several heartbeats, Blair lay still beneath him, panting for breath, and Jim eased them apart, intending to lie quietly beside his lover and hold him, shelter him, until the vision quest ended.

 _An explosion of bliss, greater than he’d ever known, taking him away until he was flying – heat, light, need, desire, pleasure, such pleasure, such ecstasy spiraling through him and cresting, cresting, breaking like a tumultuous wave and tossing him fully into the blinding light so that he knew oneness, the completion and unity of all. For a brief, blinding moment he felt awe and such utter ecstasy in the rich, poignant and compassionate embrace of the whole, of love incarnate and everlasting, infinitely reassuring, eternally safe… but the wave crashed past and he was left gasping and reeling, trying to find his balance …_

 _Only to find himself again in the alley shrouded by the noisome darkness of evil._

 _“NO!” he protested in wretched despair and bereft denial, feeling as if he’d been cast from grace. Jim. He had to save Jim from the darkness. Violently, he reached for his partner and thrust him behind him, safe in the shadow of the balcony and against the solid brick wall._

“NO!” Blair cried out, and he writhed, his arms flailing. Caught by surprise by the abrupt violence, Jim grabbed his wrists, hoping to calm him, but Blair surged upward, taking him and rolling him, so that now he was the one being sheltered by Blair’s shuddering body.

 _The evil was coming, stalking them, like a predatory ghost through the fog. He reached for his weapon, but he was naked and unarmed. Jim’s weapons had disappeared. Desperately, he searched the ground for something, a stick, a metal bar, anything – but there was nothing. He could feel the nearness of malice and death; his skin crawled with the awareness of impending doom. “Please help me, help us!” he screamed in desperation, feeling lost and vulnerable and shamefully naked without weapon or strategy for defense. “Please, share your knowledge, show us the path to protect our tribe!” he begged, and knew tears gathered in his eyes. He pressed back against Jim as he prepared to face what stalked them. He would die before he’d allow harm to come to his beloved._

 _In that moment, he felt a calm, an acceptance of what he was and of what he might be that he’d never felt before. For the first time, he welcomed the power that coursed within him, the power that might help keep Jim safe, though he still feared it would not be enough, and he felt as if his heart might break._

 _He felt the silken fur of the wolf beside him and then the panther brushed against his leg; their presence steadied him. He wasn’t alone. They hadn’t been wholly abandoned and lost. “Please,” he whispered hoarsely, looking toward the darkened heavens where lightning flashed and thunder growled and blood-red rain threatened. He kept one hand on Jim, holding him back and safe from an enemy he could not best, and lifted his other hand to the sky as he begged again, “Please, help us!”_

 _He heard a thunderous flapping of wings, felt a rush of wind, as a magnificent eagle appeared above him. The mighty wings beat back the filthy mist with fresh, pure air and drove away the darkness, letting the bright crimson hues of sunset fill the vault of the universe. But, nearby, he heard a low, threatening growl, and he knew the ghostly lion was still stalking them, padding closer and closer through the swirling fog._

 _The wolf and the jaguar issued their own challenge, pacing forward to stand between the humans and the killer that threatened. Disdainful of them, the mighty lion stalked out of the fog, his fangs bared, his claws extended, a promise of death in his eyes. Gasping, Blair straightened, determined to stand and fight with the spirit animals, to protect Jim and keep him safe until he’d breathed his last breath. If he could save Jim, then there was still hope that Jim would save their tribe. Risking a last glance upward, he sent a final, poignant appeal. “Please, please … we can’t do this alone. Please help us.”_

 _Fangs bared, the lion was about to leap, but the eagle screamed and swooped, golden talons flashing in the crimson light. With a furious hiss, the beast leapt back and rose up on its haunches, striking out at the eagle. But the raptor was nimble and evaded the claws, and the great wings beat upon the beast and the flashing talons angled toward its murderous eyes. Roaring with rage, the lion whirled away and faded like a specter into the fog that was seeping out of the streets, drifting away. But still lightning streaked the sky, thunder rumbled, and the eagle hovered over him, over the wolf and the panther, over Jim, its mighty wings sheltering them all from the burning acid of the blood-red rain that spilled from the sky._

 _“Thank you,” Blair gasped, tears of relief and gratitude on his face as he lifted his hands toward the great eagle that hovered protectively._

 _“It is time, young one,” the eagle replied solemnly. “Time to follow the path.”_

 _The world faded away until there was only amorphous light and he was alone. He felt lost, insubstantial, unworthy and afraid. So afraid. “Jim,” he whispered, breathlessly, in the airless void. “Jim.”_

“Jim,” Blair whispered, sounding dazed and scared, and then he collapsed to sprawl bonelessly on top of Jim.

Alarmed, Jim eased Blair onto his back and cupped his pallid, chilled face. “Chief!” he called anxiously, “Blair!”

Helplessness quivered in his gut as he hastily rubbed Blair’s arms to bring warmth back into them. He dragged up the blankets over their bodies, and he covered Blair’s body with his own, to keep the chill air away, to lend heat. “C’mon, kid, you’re scaring me here,” he urged, fighting the panic that threatened.

Blair had been so afraid of doing this, of seeking more than he knew how to handle, of trespassing in mysteries beyond his reach; afraid of being overwhelmed and lost, of being unable to find his way back, whole and safe. Had he pushed Blair too hard in his need for answers? Had they risked too much? Would Blair be lost in some plane of madness, unable to find his way back? Was this what Blair felt when he zoned, so helpless and afraid of being unable to reach him? Of being utterly incapable of bringing him back? Blair was barely breathing, and his heartbeat was too slow; deathly pallor showed under the stubble of his beard.

“Oh, God,” Jim prayed – or cursed, “don’t do this. Blair! Come back to me! It’s time. Come back _now._ ” He kissed Blair’s lax lips, and his eyelids, and caressed his cold cheek. His throat thickened and he felt as if he might weep with the desolate loneliness and sick fear that swamped him. “Please, Blair. Chief. Listen to my voice,” he urged hoarsely. “Follow my voice, Blair. Damn it, come back to me!”

Blair’s lips parted and he drew in a long, sighing breath. Weakly, he stirred and blinked, looked around in blind confusion, his pupils wide and dark in the dim light. “Jim?” he gasped and lifted his hands to grasp his lover’s arms.

“I’m here, right here,” Jim told him, his voice catching with emotion. “I’ve got you,” he affirmed, as he drew Blair into a tight embrace. “I won’t let go. I won’t ever let go.”

Blair shuddered and tears scalded him; overcome with emotions he scarcely understood, he sobbed for breath as they clung to one another.

“I’ve got you, babe,” Jim murmured, again and again, as he held on tight, shielding Blair’s trembling body with his own, warming him, keeping him safe. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s over. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Gradually, the aftermath of ecstasy and terror faded and Blair quieted in his arms. Jim nuzzled his temple and then kissed him, a brief brushing of their lips and then more deeply. Lifting his head, he asked gently, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Blair sighed wearily as he studied Jim’s face and, with awe and infinite love glowing in his eyes, he reached up to trace the tips of his fingers along Jim’s jaw. “Yeah,” he repeated more strongly. “There was an eagle – an incredible, huge eagle that drove off the lion and sheltered us. Gave us protection. The spirits are with us, Jim. Help is coming … the eagle is coming.”

“Eagle?” Jim echoed, a frown of confusion furrowing his brow.

“That’s all I know,” Blair mumbled, sounding utterly exhausted. “Oh, and the eagle said it was time to follow the path.”

“Nice that the eagle and I agree,” Jim replied amiably, with hard-won calm. But once he’d again drawn Blair close, holding his partner’s head against his shoulder, he grimaced with frustration. Why couldn’t the damn spirit guides ever be straightforward? Why was it all, always, so damned cryptic? But at least the message hadn’t been totally incomprehensible. Help was coming. They wouldn’t face LaForce alone.

In moments, he felt Blair drift into heavy sleep. Easing away, he drew up the blankets before going downstairs to blow out the candles and turn off the drums. And then he returned to the bedroom and curled up against his lover, holding him close.

Staring into the darkness, Jim found himself wishing with all his heart that they might have different lives; that their paths, Blair’s especially, could be easier. The visions seemed to be terrifying and they wore the man out, drained him completely. Why did it have to be so damned hard? Why couldn’t they have been ordinary men and not have to face truths many never had to address? Never had to accept let alone embrace. He warred with his anger that Blair had to suffer this, and with his futile sense of helplessness to protect Blair from whatever dangers lurked in that dimension of the spirits.

But fighting it all, denying it, wanting to turn away from it, had never done any good; had only, ever, made things worse, more dangerous, and infinitely more deadly. However much Jim wanted to be able to be everything to Blair, to stand alone in protecting him – he knew he couldn’t. There were forces beyond his ken, beyond his ability to either leash or … destroy.

He kissed Blair’s brow, and clutched his lover tight. Though Jim wasn’t a man who found it easy to ask for help, let alone beg, that night, when he looked up into the night sky at the distant, unknowable stars, he implored, “Help me. Help me keep him safe. Show me how. Please. Show me how.”

Jim drifted into sleep, his prayer still on his lips … and in his heart.

**

When Blair woke, he found himself securely cradled in his lover’s arms. Jim was nuzzling his temple, and he felt warm and safe and very comfortable. Smiling lazily, he murmured, “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Jim replied softly. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I feel great.” Yawning, not yet ready to get up for work, simply wanting to savor their togetherness, he snuggled a little closer still. When Jim began to languidly caress his back, he sighed with audible contentment.

For several minutes, they simply rested together, appreciating the quiet joy of the touch of one another’s bodies and the peace of being together. Jim combed his fingers through Blair’s hair and asked, “Do you remember much about last night? Can you tell me what happened?”

Stirring slightly, Blair nodded against Jim’s chest. “It was … amazing, I guess. Through meditation, I’ve often reached a place of balance and tranquility, and you know I’ve had some clairvoyant episodes, when we’ve been after killers. But last night, for a few moments, I broke through into a whole other place or experience. Not sure how to describe it. Wonderful … awesome. It was like … like being in a state of bliss, I guess. One with the boundless love that embodies the universe.” He lifted his head to look at Jim. “You know I believe that there is some great, all-powerful, embracing power in the universe that’s the essence of love, right? Whatever we call gods or believe them to be, that it comes down to that? Well, now I don’t just believe. _I know._ ” Reaching to cup Jim’s cheek with his warm palm, he murmured, “But I wouldn’t have made it alone, Jim. I was afraid and I … I was hesitating. You took me there, man. Last night. You took me to paradise.”

Jim didn’t seem to know what to say, and was visibly struggling with sudden emotion. His grip tightened around Blair and he blinked quickly to shed the sheen of moisture in his eyes. His jaw flexed as he swallowed heavily, and he gave a small, tight nod. Lips tightly compressed, perhaps to hide an insipient trembling, quirked in a shy, vulnerable smile. After a moment, he released a shuddery breath and gave another tight nod. “Good,” he rasped. “I’m glad,” he managed before his voice cracked. Clearing his throat, a slight frown puckering his brow, sounding concerned, he went on, “But, uh, it didn’t all seem great, you know? Some of what you were experiencing seemed, uh, scary.”

Nodding, again resting his cheek against Jim’s chest, Blair recounted, “I ended up back in the vision of the darkness and the mist, with the lion stalking us. I’m sure now that the lion is LaForce’s spirit guide. Woot was there, and your panther, standing with me, with us. Anyway, the lion was about to attack when this huge eagle appeared, its wings beating back the darkness. And then it lunged at the lion, attacked it with golden claws, and drove it off. Once the lion was gone, the eagle hovered over us and shielded us from the burning, blood-red rain. And … and it was then, just before the vision ended, that the eagle told me it was time to follow the path.”

“Why have you been avoiding it, Chief?” Jim asked then, low and concerned. “You made the commitment months ago to accept what it means to be a shaman, or I thought you did. But you’ve said hardly anything about it since. Is it really just the job and everything else that’s been happening?”

Sighing, Blair idly stroked Jim’s arm. “No,” he admitted. “It’s hard to explain. I used to … used to hunger for knowledge, for knowledge’s sake. But this is different. This … this could change who I am, what we have. This isn’t just learning – it’s _becoming_ something or someone else. I guess I see it as something I _have_ to do, rather than _want_ to do. So I’ve been dragging my feet; avoiding it, whatever ‘it’ is. But I know it’s time. I can’t put it off any longer. I … I don’t want to put it off. I can’t.”

Shifting, Jim bent to capture Blair’s lips and kissed him deeply. And then he said huskily, “ _Nothing_ is ever going to change what we have, what we are to one another, Chief. You don’t ever have to be afraid of that.” When Blair looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, he smiled reassuringly. “Wherever this takes us, we’re in it together.”

Blair was about to respond when Jim suddenly tensed, lifted his head and then swiftly rolled off the bed to stand with wary readiness. “He’s here,” he growled, his gaze flicking around the bedroom, seeking the source of the frisson of negative energy he felt vibrating in the air.

Scrambling up to stand beside him, Blair touched his arm to ground him. Blair’s gaze narrowed and he saw Maxim LaForce mounting the steps – or at least the filmy mirage of the man, the spiritwalker. LaForce was looking at them, smiling contemptuously. “I see him,” Blair said. “Coming up the steps.”

Jim moved to put himself between the sorcerer and his guide. When he let his eyes go slightly out of focus, he could pick up traces of the emanation, but couldn’t see their enemy clearly. But, gradually, LaForce became more visible, until it was as if the man himself was standing insolently before them, brashly confident in his greater power. Observing their nakedness, he smiled salaciously.

“You can’t stop me,” he told them. “There’s nothing that can keep me from having what I want.” Looking fully at Blair, he stated bluntly, “And I want you.”

His lip curling into a sneer, Jim snapped, “You can’t have him.”

LaForce laughed disdainfully as he eyed Jim with contempt. Abruptly, he lifted his hand, palm out, and Jim was blasted backwards, across the width of the bed, to crash against the wall on the far side. Feeling as if his chest was being compressed by some heavy weight that was suffocating him and sucking the life out of him, he lay stunned and gasping for breath.

Laforce curled the fingers of his outstretched hand, closing them into a fist – and Jim began to choke, his fingers clawing at his throat to remove the clutching grasp, but he couldn’t dislodge or resist the invisible power that was crushing the life out of him.

Swiftly, Blair shifted to put himself between LaForce and his partner. “Stop!” he shouted, angry and terrified and sick with helplessness.

Jim’s labored gasps filled the air and he sounded like he was being strangled, and Blair could hear him writhing with increasing desperation … and then he stopped struggling and there was only a desperate silence as his chest heaved in the struggle to breathe. Blair knew that Jim couldn’t take much more. He was going to die, dammit! Blair nearly choked on the helpless rage that consumed him.

Shaking, Blair yelled with nearly hysterical fear, “If you hurt him, I swear I’ll kill you!” When LaForce just laughed, Blair reacted instinctively; without thinking, in terror and fury, he lifted his hands to push LaForce away – and the spirit stumbled back.

Behind him, Jim heaved in a great gulp of air. He coughed raggedly and lay panting, gasping, not quite fully conscious.

Blair stood between his lover and the sorcerer, his feet planted, his body balanced, and his hands up and palms out. He could feel the fire of hate burn within him, seductive and alive. “I’ll kill you if you touch him again,” he vowed with cold, vicious intent.

Chuckling triumphantly, LaForce clapped his hands. But then he sobered and purred with hot satisfaction, “You think you’re so different from me, but you’re not. You’ll use all the power available to you for your own ends – to protect him simply because he’s important to you. Ah, you have such potential, young one; the power is there, but untutored, raw and undirected.”

“Get out and never come back,” Blair seethed.

But, evidently unmoved by his fury, his threats, LaForce shook his head. “No, no, you haven’t the power to order me to your will. And you can try to fight me, but you’ll lose. He’ll be dead and I’ll still own your soul. So, before it comes to that, before you lose more than you can live with … choose, young one. Choose to come with me of your own free will, to serve me and learn from me. If you do, I’ll spare him.”

“I’ll never submit to you,” Blair sneered. “I said, get out.”

“Is your hate so strong that it matters more to you than love?” LaForce challenged. “Are you really so much like me already? If you love him, you’ll give up this pathetic display of independence. If you love him and want him to live, you will submit.”

And then he was gone. One moment there, the next … just gone.

Blair whirled and leapt onto the bed and then down, to crouch beside Jim and lift his head and shoulders, cradling him in his arms. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, cupping Jim’s face with one hand. “He’s gone.”

Gradually, Jim’s breathing eased, but he seemed exhausted, drained of life and energy as he lay heavily against Blair. His hand trembling with residual weakness, he rubbed at the ache that lingered over his heart, a deep ache, worse than the burn of his bruised throat. “God,” he rasped, badly shaken, both angry and afraid to have been so helpless; shivering, he felt chilled to the marrow.

Blair yanked the duvet half off the bed and hastily tucked it around Jim, to warm him. Easing down to sit against the wall beside his partner, he held him tightly. Staring at the spot where LaForce had been, he felt fundamentally betrayed and utterly impotent.

The vision had _promised_ help – so where the hell was it?

The sorcerer could have killed Jim and Blair knew he couldn’t have stopped him. Panting shallowly, feeling sick with angry frustration and fear, he thought about the stark choice LaForce was giving him. Shuddering, he swallowed hard, and curled forward, to rest his cheek against Jim’s head. It was an impossible choice. He couldn’t let that monster kill Jim – but neither could he ever conceive of leaving his partner, let alone to be a virtual slave to evil.

In those moments, he was furious with Incacha for having passed along what felt more like a curse than any kind of gift; and he hated himself for how his choices since seemed only to ever put them at risk. If he’d refused to pursue the shaman’s path in Mexico, LaForce wouldn’t be threatening them now – or would he? The sorcerer might still have come to Cascade; might still have been an adversary they had no capacity to stop. If Blair had been more resolute about honing his skills, his own powers, maybe he wouldn’t be so useless now, but his uncertainties, his fears, had gotten in the way and left them, left Jim, at risk.

Guilt swelled; he was caught in a trap of his own making and Jim might pay for that with his life. But what had been the option? To have never come back at the fountain? To have died of the shaman’s sickness in Mexico? To die now, so LaForce would just go away and leave Jim alone? Like that would ever happen; like Jim would ever stop going after the sorcerer if he thought Blair had sacrificed his life to protect him. And death would mean never having this, never being here, to hold Jim, to be loved by him. Impossible to imagine never having, or losing, all that they had. Completely impossible, but he didn’t know what to do, how to make anything better.

In the depths of his mind, he quailed with a different kind of fear. Was LaForce right? Were they really so alike after all?

Nausea threatened, but he swallowed the bile that burned the back of his throat. No, no he could never be like that monster. Trembling, he closed his eyes and held onto Jim tight.

Jim stirred in his arms and, wiping his face, pushed himself up to lean against the wall beside Blair. He looked haggard, but his breathing was back to normal. “You okay?” he rasped.

“Me?” Blair returned, his voice rising with the emotions that raged within him. “ _I’m_ fine. You’re the one he wants to kill. God, I’m sorry, Jim. I’m so sorry I don’t know what to do or how to stop this bastard.”

“Ah, hey,” Jim exclaimed, startled by the vehemence and the tremor in his partner’s voice. Looping an arm around Blair’s shoulders, he soothed, “None of this is your fault, Chief. We’ll figure it out.”

“Will we? Between now and when we confront him again at your Dad’s tonight?” he challenged roughly. With a thin, hollow laugh, he went on, “And we can’t even call it off, or post guards on your father to keep him safe. LaForce can go anywhere he wants, find people wherever they are. This is … God, Jim. I don’t know what to do. I have no fucking clue how to stop him!”

Not having any ready answers, Jim’s gaze dropped away. He squeezed Blair’s shoulder and, removing his arm, patted him encouragingly, before pushing himself to his feet. “Well, cowering here in the corner isn’t an option. C’mon. We need to get ready for work.” He held out a hand, to pull Blair up beside him.

Blair looked at the proffered hand and up, into Jim’s steady gaze. Mutely, he nodded, took Jim’s hand and stood. What choice did they have, after all, except to carry on? But, as they swiftly made the bed, he resolved to make LaForce go through him, to stand as a shield between Jim and his father and the sorcerer, to somehow block the attack as long as he could, as he had that morning. Maybe it was hopeless; maybe he was destined to lose that battle and to maybe even die resisting – but there was no way he could stand aside. And there was no way in hell he could just give up and go with that … that creature of unmitigated evil.

Before they headed downstairs to shower, Jim paused and looked at him. “I heard what he said,” he stated flatly. “You’re not going with him.”

“No,” Blair agreed steadily. “No, I’m not.” When he looked up into Jim’s eyes, he could see that his partner shared his grim knowledge that neither of them might survive the coming confrontation. His throat tightened and he had to clench his jaw to keep from crying out with the pain of that awareness. He saw Jim swallow heavily and nod in sorrowful acknowledgement.

“Together, Chief,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever comes, whatever happens, we meet it together.”

His eyes burning, blinking hard to banish useless tears, Blair moved into Jim’s strong embrace, and hugged him fiercely. Then he reached up to draw Jim’s face down to his, and he kissed his lover with all the wild passion in his soul. Kissed him as if it might the last time and he wanted Jim to have no doubts about how much he was desired … and how deeply he was loved.

**

They arrived at the office just before ten AM, visibly pale and sober. Simon looked up from a file he was reading and, frowning, waved them into his office. “What’s going on?” he demanded, looking from one to the other. “The two of you look like hell.”

Standing stiffly before his desk, as if afraid to relax, they glanced at one another and then Jim said, “LaForce paid us a visit early this morning.”

“What?” Banks exclaimed. “Why?”

Blair lifted his gaze from the floor and replied woodenly, “He gave us a small demonstration of his abilities, so we’d know we couldn’t stop him. He, uh, he wants me to go with him. Says if I don’t, he’ll kill Jim.”

Turning to cast a disbelieving look at Jim, Simon exclaimed, “And you let him get away with that?”

“I wasn’t in any shape to do much about it,” he replied, his voice strained. “He, uh, he was choking me, sucking the life right out of me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Don’t ever want to feel it again, either.” He hesitated and then explained, “Simon … he wasn’t really there. It was his spirit, I guess. Not his body.”

Banks’ eyes widened and then he winced. Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his face and shook his head. “Give me strength,” he muttered and then sighed. Replacing his glasses, he pinned them with a stern expression. “Okay, I’ve heard of this sort of thing. Astral travel, right? But I didn’t think spirits could do more than look around. You’re saying he attacked you?”

“Yeah, blasted me with some kind of power – knocked me right off my feet and kept me down. I couldn’t breathe,” Jim admitted grudgingly.

“And he stopped out of the goodness of his heart?” Simon probed, his tone both anxious and skeptical as he looked back and forth between them.

When Blair didn’t answer, Jim reported, “Sandburg got between us; made him stop.”

Intrigued, Banks turned to Blair. “How? How did you get him to back off?”

“Uh, I’m not sure I did,” he replied uncertainly. Simon simply looked at him impatiently. Embarrassed and uncomfortable, Blair blurted, “I was scared and angry and I … I pushed back, mentally, sort of; told him I’d kill him if he hurt Jim – and I meant it, Simon. I’ve never been so angry,” he growled, shaking again with the force of the emotion. Jim gripped his shoulder and he took a deep breath. “Whatever I did, it made him stumble and he stopped whatever he was doing to Jim. But … but he just laughed and, and gloated. Said I was as bad as him, just untrained. Said if I fought him, I’d lose. He said, he said if I didn’t go with him willingly, he’d kill Jim and … and then he disappeared.”

“Disappeared? Just like that?” Simon scowled.

“Yeah. Just like that,” Blair confirmed with sigh. He raked his hair back and shook his head as he crossed his arms.

“Can’t arrest or shoot a spirit, dammit,” Simon muttered, clearly disgruntled by being confronted with stuff he really didn’t want to know about. But this couldn’t be ignored; the danger was too great. Turning away, briefly wishing for something a little stronger, he filled three mugs with coffee, and passed two of them across his desk. “Drink this. Looks like you both need it.”

Once they’d relaxed enough to sit down and sip at the hot liquid, and he’d done the same, he said, “Okay, this guy is clearly dishonest, so I’m not inclined to believe much that he says. Looks to me like he’s using classic intimidation tactics to bully you into doing what he wants. But the fact is, whatever you did, Blair, you stopped him. I don’t pretend to understand any of this – nor do I really want to, so please don’t feel you have to connect the dots for me, okay? But … he fixated on you the first night, Blair. And now he says he wants you. Why?”

“LaForce wants Sandburg to be his apprentice, more or less a slave, to learn from him and do his bidding,” Jim interjected when Blair hesitated.

“Huh,” Simon grunted and frowned as he pondered that. “Why? What’s in it for him?” When the two detectives shrugged, he leaned forward on his elbows. “Maybe because you _could_ kill him, and he knows it.”

His eyes widening, Blair shook his head. “Honestly, Simon, I don’t have a clue about any of this or how to … to use whatever powers I’ve got. I’m no match for him.”

“No? Then why didn’t he just kill Jim this morning and take you? Nuh uh. I think there’s more to it. All he did this morning was confirm to us that he could have killed while appearing to be elsewhere. Why bother unless he’s trying to convince you to go without a showdown?” He paused and again scowled. “But how do we catch someone like that?” With a grimace, he scratched his cheek. “And once we’ve got him, what do we do with him? How do we hold him?”

“Simon, you’re giving me way too much credit here,” Blair protested. “I have no idea how to stop this guy, short of maybe shooting him, and I don’t even know if that would work.”

“Well, don’t start suggesting stakes through the heart or silver bullets, okay? This is weird enough as it is,” Banks told him irritably.

“He’s not a vampire,” Blair retorted, not amused by the attempt at humor. “Might be easier if he was.”

Simon leveled a ‘don’t go there’ look at him, and Blair sighed as he sank back in his chair.

“The point is,” Jim cut in, impatiently, “we’ve got to come up with some answers. And soon. He’s going to be at my father’s place this evening. We only have a few hours to figure out how to stop him.”

“Maybe I can help,” a low, resonant voice said amiably from the doorway, startling them, and they came to their feet with unconscious wariness.

A sturdy old man leaned casually against the doorjamb. Just under six feet tall, he was garbed in well-worn jeans, denim shirt, and sheepskin-lined ancient leather jacket; long, snow-white hair was loosely tied back with a leather thong. He had a wide brow, strong nose, and sharply-etched cheekbones in a lean, darkly tanned and austere visage; his lips were generous, curving in a slight, ironic smile, and the clear, penetrating black eyes studying them held a glint of humor.

“Captain Banks, I’m Ben Thundercloud,” he said evenly. “Wolf said you might need some help with a sorcerer.”

Upon his hearing his name, they all visibly relaxed. “You came,” Blair gasped, while Jim studied the stranger intently. Simon moved out from around his desk, extending his hand in welcome. “I didn’t know you were coming, but I think I’m very glad you’re here,” he said warmly as his fingers closed around the lean, strong, bronzed hand of Dan Wolf’s shaman. “Call me Simon. Come in and get comfortable. You want a cup of coffee?”

“I’d appreciate that,” Thundercloud replied as he moved into the room. “Was a long drive.” He firmly shook Jim’s hand, meeting the assessing blue gaze with steady confidence. “You’d be Jim Ellison,” he said respectfully, without hesitation, and then he turned to Blair. Instead of shaking Sandburg’s hand, he gripped both shoulders strongly, and gave a slight inclination of his head, as if to an equal. But he grinned as he lightly cupped Blair’s head affectionately with his big hand. “Woot has told me about you. It’s long past time we met.”

Once he’d accepted the generous mug of coffee Simon had poured for him, they all took places around the conference table. “Woot?” Simon asked, as they got comfortable.

“My, uh, spirit guide,” Blair supplied diffidently. “Woot is a wolf.”

“Oh,” Banks replied uncomfortably. Arching a brow, he took refuge in his coffee cup.

“I don’t know how much Dan told you,” Jim began, but Thundercloud held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I know this sorcerer,” he said evenly. “He’s gone by many names over the years. In the beginning, he was known as Force of Nature, and he showed great promise, but his anger, his hatred because of the loss of his family, consumed him. Now, he is driven only by his own desires and his need to dominate and punish. His soul has become twisted; a pitiful, pathetic thing, but dangerous.”

“How do you know about him?” Blair asked curiously. “Have you met him?”

“Not in the way you mean,” Ben replied with a tight shake of his head. “But he’s not the only one who walks the spirit path,” he went on with a casual shrug. “He lurks in the shadows, gloating in his arrogance. He thinks we don’t see him, but all those who can see know he is there; we shun him deliberately. He is corrupt and to touch him is to be corrupted, unless one has the power to touch without fear or hatred. No, we leave him alone, and we wait for the one whose touch can turn the evil and heal it. Only the most powerful in spirit would ever willingly risk contact with one such as he is.”

“What does he want with me?” Blair asked, his expression sober as he did his best to hide his anxiety.

Sighing, Ben leaned back in his chair and hooked an arm over the back of it. He studied Blair for a long moment, until the silence in the room grew heavy. “He told you why. He wants to own the power that is within you. Once you are within his sway, bound to him, he would teach you, refine that power – and then he would consume it, along with your life and soul. Your power would allow him to achieve his goal, that of being able to command the dead to rise up and do his will. Without you, or one like you, he cannot reach that level of power.”

“Command the dead?” Simon swallowed heavily and shook his head. Setting down his mug, he rumbled, “I’m sorry, but … all this sounds …”

“Crazy?” Thundercloud suggested ingenuously when Banks’ voice died away. The shaman smiled. “Of course it does, to one of your beliefs. In your world, you are concerned only with the concrete, with what you can see and hear, taste, touch and smell.” Glancing at Jim, he went on, “That is why it has been so hard for you, with your watchman abilities, to give credence to the visions you’ve had; to believe in the mystical. But you’ve made great progress.” Turning back to Simon, he continued, “There is more than what we can perceive with our senses. You are a spiritual man – you believe in God. I ask you to consider that there are different ways of meeting God, of knowing this Greatness that surrounds us. Some of us have learned to experience the spiritual in other ways, to walk along the spirits’ pathways and commune directly with them. Some of us have the capacity – the talent and skill – to heal, for example, simply by touch. I think you’ve seen examples of this, have you not?” he asked, glancing meaningfully at Jim and Blair.

“Yeah, yeah, I have,” Simon admitted. “I don’t understand it, but I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

“The miraculous is not as rare as some might have us all believe,” Ben chuckled, the only one at the table who appeared completely at ease. “The miraculous is all around us, if we only have the eyes to see it, the ears to hear.”

“Uh huh,” Jim grunted impatiently. “The question is, how do we stop LaForce before he can hurt anyone else?”

Scratching his cheek, Thundercloud allowed, “That is a good question.” Leaning his forearms on the table, he loosely laced his long fingers together. “If you are asking how to destroy him, I can tell you that you cannot. He has the power to draw life energy from those around him – just as some use touch to heal, to share healing energy, he uses touch to draw that energy into himself. That is how he has lived so long and yet seems to remain young and vigorous.” The others grimaced at the image he created, but he ignored their reaction and carried on. “If you are asking how to cage him, you cannot. His spirit cannot be bound by a physical cage, and when he is spiritwalking, he can manipulate the world; he’d soon set himself free.”

“Then what can we do?” Blair demanded, fraught with impatient anxiety and battling a pervasive sense of hopelessness. “I can’t let him hurt Jim or anyone else. And I sure won’t go with him.”

Once again Thundercloud studied him intently, until Blair squirmed under the relentless scrutiny. Then, he mused distantly, “Perhaps, one day … but today is not that day.” Giving himself a small shake, seeming to return to the room from a long way away, he said bluntly, “We can only drive him off, perhaps mark him so others will be less willing to trust him. That is the best we can do, and even that will not be easily done. But this will increase his anger and his hunger to best you, to possess you. Without doubt, he will return some day.”

“Yeah, well, by then, maybe we’ll be better equipped to deal with him,” Jim muttered.

“That is in your hands,” Ben said. “Yours and Blair’s.”

“It’s time to follow the path,” Blair murmured, recalling his vision.

“We’ve been waiting for you to choose your path,” the shaman said gravely. When the others looked askance at him, he went on, “The sorcerer is not the only one who has watched you from the spirit plane. You have met many challenges, overcome serious barriers, survived when others would have died because your sentinel has believed in you and has refused to let you go. Your spirit and your nascent power are strong; you show great promise … but you take grave risks in using it unharnessed, all-unknowing. The power you hold within you is neither bad nor good – but using it improperly can erode your soul. Learn to use it, Blair, or give it up. The fence you are sitting upon is crumbling beneath you.”

“I can still reject it?” Blair asked with something that sounded like relief.

“Chief!” Jim objected but, holding his palm up, Thundercloud cut him off.

“Now is not the time for these decisions,” he ruled firmly, brooking no further debate or discussion. “Nor should such a decision be taken lightly, or because of fear. There is time, yet, so leave this for now.”

“Right,” Simon agreed, feeling uncomfortably awash in matters he didn’t understand and didn’t even like thinking about. “For now, we just have to decide how to handle LaForce. It pains me to not be able to put him behind bars, but if we can’t arrest him, how do we at least drive him away?”

With a thin smile, Thundercloud gave him an approving glance. “On my way here, I thought about this problem and I have an idea. The sorcerer pretends to greater powers than he has. He flaunts certain abilities; he sees into the future, but his vision is clouded and imperfect. Spiritwalking leaves his body vulnerable; he is able to mesmerize others into doing his will, and he exults in manipulating objects and people by using energy as a weapon – but to do more than one of these at a time saps his will and power, weakening him. Although he can spiritwalk, he cannot reach beyond into true visions. While he can take energy, he cannot heal; if he could, he would have healed his family and not become this sorry creature of darkness that he is. He cannot mesmerize and wield energy as a weapon at the same time – and while he concentrates on one person, he is unable to control others. So, although it is not without risk, this is what I suggest we do.”

Eager for answers, they leaned forward, listening intently as he shared his strategy with them. “First,” he said, “and most importantly, Blair, you must not touch him – he would feed upon your anger and your fear and it would strengthen him beyond our collective ability to resist. Under no circumstances can he be given physical access to the power within you. And, there is another risk, for in touching you, he could infect you with his darkness.”

“Maybe I should just stay away,” Blair exclaimed as he threw up his hands, disgusted to know that far from helping, he could be some kind of liability.

“No, you are the lure; you must be there or he will not come,” Ben replied, his tone steady and calm. His gaze narrowing as he searched Blair’s eyes, he went on inexorably, “Nor can you meet him alone; you are not strong enough to resist him.”

“I wouldn’t go with him,” Blair retorted indignantly, avoiding Jim’s glance, inadvertently admitting what he’d been considering.

“You would have no choice,” Thundercloud returned sharply, his words cutting the air between them. “Do not be stubborn, young one. Do not be ridden by guilt or rage, for they will only weaken you. Do not think you can sacrifice yourself, for he would turn that submission on you and destroy all you love, simply to prove his domination over you. Hear me and listen well. Do your part or we might all be lost. As untrained as your power is, we will have need of it before this is over.”

Chastened, Blair bowed his head. Sighing in defeat, he nodded. “I hear you, and I’ll do whatever I can,” he replied. Then he looked up at Ben, appeal in his eyes as he pleaded, “Don’t let him hurt … anyone, okay? Please. Just don’t let him hurt anyone because of me.”

“I can make no such guarantees,” Ben told him severely. “But if we each do our part, we have a hope of succeeding.” Looking around at the others, he resumed laying out his suggestions for how they would confront LaForce.

**

Later, Jim called his father, to let him know Ben Thundercloud was on his way and why. He tried to convince his dad to go out for the evening, to leave the confrontation to them, but William refused. _“I’m not going to turn my back on you, Jimmy,”_ he said firmly. _“Not going to run and hide somewhere, my head buried in the sand, pretending none of this is happening. I don’t understand it – and I sure in hell don’t like it – but I’ll see it through.”_

Jim snorted, not sure whether to be grateful or irritated, but he acquiesced. “Thundercloud will need a place to stay tonight. I’d feel better if he was in the house, with you.”

 _“You got it,”_ William replied. _“Look forward to meeting him. He anything like Mano?”_

“No, not at all, not physically, anyway – but, maybe … yeah, I guess in a lot of ways, he is,” Jim said. “Speaks his mind.”

 _“Then we should get along just fine.”_

Meanwhile, Blair had lingered in Simon’s office when the others had left. Unabashedly listening in, Jim could understand his motivations – but his money was on Simon.

“You don’t have to be a part of this!” Blair was arguing. “You’ve got Darryl to think about – and Naomi, too. There’s no reason for you to be there tonight!”

“No reason?” Simon contested, his tone low and dangerous. “For one thing, this bastard is dirty and it’s my job to keep the citizens of this city safe from threats like him.” Holding up a hand, he shook his head warningly. “And don’t try to tell me that just because this creep uses magic that he’s out of my jurisdiction, because that’s no excuse to turn a blind eye.”

“But –”

“That’s enough!” Banks bellowed. Taking a breath, he shook his head and wiped a hand over his mouth. His voice rough with gentleness, he went on, “And, regardless of my job, how can you say there’s no reason for me to be there? Dammit, Blair – you and Jim are my best friends. More than that, if things work out the way I hope with Naomi, you could be my _son;_ which, I guess, God help me since I’m really not old enough for this, would make Jim my son-in-law. So don’t you dare tell me what’s going down tonight has nothing to do with me. That’s just not true, and you know it.”

Staggered by arguments he’d not expected, Blair shook his head stubbornly. “You don’t owe me – us – that,” he rasped hoarsely.

“What? You don’t want me to be your father?” Simon challenged, though his tone had a teasing edge.

“Ah, geez, Simon,” Blair whined, tossing up his hands. “That’s not fair, man. One thing has nothing to do with the other. And this really isn’t the time for a father/son talk, you know? I’m serious, here. We don’t know what this guy is capable of, or how badly he might hurt everyone before, or even if, we can drive him away. I don’t want you getting hurt out of some misguided sense of loyalty, or something.”

“There’s nothing ‘misguided’ about my sense of loyalty to either you or Jim,” Simon replied soberly. “You’ve both earned it, in spades. But … this isn’t about what we owe each other, Blair. This is about being there when we’re needed, because we care about one another. That’s it; that’s all. And that’s the way it’s going to be. So live with it.”

Surrendering, Blair swallowed hard and, swiping at his nose, sniffed. “Okay,” he acceded. “Okay.” Looking up at Simon and taking a step forward, he said, simply, “Thank you.”

Taking a step back, holding up his hands defensively, Simon protested playfully, “No hugs. You’re not my kid, yet. So no hugs, at least not in the office.”

Surprised into a snicker, Blair grinned bemusedly. “Okay, not in the office,” he allowed. “Not yet, anyway.”

At his desk, Jim smiled wryly and shook his head. But his amusement faded when Blair came out of the office, heading toward him. Standing, he moved to intercept his partner. “Let’s take a walk,” he directed, no suggestion in his tone. “We need to talk.”

“Now?” Blair contested, hoping to win a reprieve.

“Right now.” Taking Blair’s arm, he strode toward the hall and the stairwell beyond.

In silence, they thumped down the five flights of steps and then out a side door to the alley. Looking up and down to be sure they were alone, Jim pushed Blair none too gently against the brick wall of the building. “Just what were you thinking you might do, before Ben called you on it?” he demanded stonily.

His gaze skittering away, Blair raked his hair back from his face. “I just don’t want anyone hurt because of me,” he said dismally. Squaring his shoulders, he looked defiantly up into Jim’s ice cold eyes. “And don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have been thinking the same thing, if you were the one this bastard is after. ‘Cause I know better.”

Rolling his eyes, the belligerence easing from his shoulders, his harsh expression softening, Jim reluctantly nodded. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, you’re allowed to think about it.”

“Gee, thanks for the permission to think my own thoughts,” Blair retorted sardonically.

Not amused, Jim gripped his jaw, holding Blair’s head firmly against the wall. “Don’t push it,” he warned. “This morning, we agreed to do this together. Don’t start playing by your own rules, Chief. We’re past that, right?”

“I know,” Blair conceded, all bravado gone, and Jim’s taut grip became a caress. “It’s just that when I think about what he did this morning, how easily he could have …” he began to explain, his gaze wide and vulnerable, but his voice caught and he had to clear his throat. “I don’t want to lose you, Jim.”

“I’m not that easy to lose,” he replied seductively, and then stole a quick kiss. Pulling back, he gripped Blair’s shoulder and turned him toward the entry. “C’mon. It’s too cold to stand around out here.” Holding the door open for Blair to pass under his arm, deliberately changing the subject, he asked, “So, do you think we should call Simon ‘dad’, or ‘pops’ … or what?”

Snickering, Blair looked back over his shoulder. “I have no idea. But, tell you what, when you decide, warn me before you try it – so I can be standing right _behind_ you, uh, backing you up.”

“More like keeping out of the line of fire,” Jim retorted, but he grinned as he looped his arm around his partner’s shoulders. However, the veneer of playfulness was thin, and their tension was great. “Ben seemed to know what he was talking about. Sorta reminded me of Mano.”

“I know,” Blair nodded solemnly as they trudged upward. “But LaForce … LaForce has had a hundred years to get good at what he does, Jim. And there was something Ben said that worries me.” Pausing, he looked up at his partner. “I don’t think this guy feeds just on the energy of others. I think he feeds on hatred and anger.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we can’t let him get to us,” Blair replied, but he frowned and licked his lips uncertainly. “I’m … I’m saying we have to do this without anger or fear, no matter how much he taunts us or tries to scare us.”

Rubbing his mouth, Jim quirked a skeptical brow. “That’s a tall order, Chief. You sure?”

“I think so,” he said tentatively. “I think we have to try. What was it Ben said? That he couldn’t be destroyed – that he had to be healed; only there was no one with enough power to do that.”

Jim just grimaced and shook his head as he resumed climbing the stairs. “I don’t want to heal him,” he grated. “If I can’t lock him up, and I can’t kill him, I just want him gone.”

Unable to feel any differently, Blair gave a small nod, sighed, and followed him up the long flight of steps.

**

Heavy clouds had rolled in to obscure the crimson sunset sky, and the early-spring darkness had already fallen by the time they turned the corner just past William’s home. Slowing to a stop, Jim parked at the curb, Simon pulling in behind them.

Before he got out of the truck, Jim hesitated and then said, his tone low and emphatic, “I might not have been able to fight back this morning, but I heard what he said. And he’s wrong, Chief. You’re nothing like him. Nothing at all like that monster. Don’t ever, ever let him make you think you are.”

Jim heard his partner’s breath catch, and then Blair turned to him. In the darkness, his eyes were wide and shadowed. “You sure about that, Jim?” he asked, his tone guarded and … scared. “I wanted to … to _destroy_ him this morning. If I could have, I would have, and I would have been _glad_ of it.”

“Anger is natural, so is fear, and he was yanking all your chains, Chief – trying to push you over the edge, trying to confuse you,” Jim replied. “But you didn’t kill him. You stopped when he backed off. You’re not a killer, Chief. You’re not.”

Blair swallowed heavily and, slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice tight but determined, “let’s do this.”

Simon got out of his vehicle to meet them. Hunched against the damp chill of a heavy mist that swirled through the streets, they strode wordlessly along the sidewalk and up the path to the front door. Jim pushed the bell but didn’t wait; shouldering open the door, he waved the others in with him.

William hastened along the hall to greet them and take their coats. Behind him, the sound of a slow drumbeat echoed through the house and Jim’s nose twitched at an odd scent. When he quirked a brow, his father replied with a quizzically amused expression, “He’s been burning sweetgrass to cleanse the house.”

“Ah … well, at least it’s not sage,” Jim replied stoically, shrugging out of his coat, while William took Simon’s and Blair’s.

Blair led Simon into the living room, but William held Jim back after they’d hung the coats in the closet. “Jimmy, you think this voodoo stuff is going to work?”

With a thin smile, Jim replied, “It’s not voodoo, Dad. Ben Thundercloud is a shaman; I hope a powerful one. These are … these are his traditions. We have to hope he knows what he’s doing.” He hesitated and then added, “It’s not too late for you to leave.”

“No, no, I’m staying,” William said resolutely, and then an impish grin lit his face. “I might be crazy, you know – but I wouldn’t miss this for anything. After what happened in Mexico, well, I guess I’ve learned that more things are possible that I would have ever believed. I guess part of me knows this is dangerous but … but I’m not going to cut and run on you, Jim. Not ever again.”

“Thanks, Pop,” he murmured as he wrapped an arm around his father’s shoulders.

When they reached the living room, Jim was pleased to note the preparations that had been made. The furniture had been moved back against the walls, and some of it had disappeared entirely into another room, to leave a lot of open space. Small objects had been put somewhere else, so that there was nothing LaForce could easily levitate to cause distractions or injuries. The pungent, clean scent of sweetgrass was stronger in the room and Jim could see fine swirls of it floating under the ceiling. The drumming came from somewhere above them, and he could hear Thundercloud’s low chanting, though he doubted anyone else could.

“Okay, well, I guess we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” Blair said nervously, wishing he could conjure up a sense of exhilaration, some of his old enthusiasm and whimsy about the unknown and fascinating foreign cultures, but he was too worried things might go wrong, badly wrong. Taking a breath to steady himself, he told Simon and William, “Whatever he does, whatever he threatens, try not to feel any anger or fear; I think those emotions make him stronger.”

“As a minimum, they cloud our own judgment,” Jim intoned, not all that convinced about Blair’s theory, but wanting to be as supportive, for logical reasons, as he could. He looked around the room and the three entrances into it – from the front hall with its staircase to the upper floor, the dining room, and the back hall that led further into the house. “Okay, Dad, you’ll meet him at the door and bring him in here. Simon, you’ll be out of sight in the back hall. We’ll be in the dining room. Ben … Ben will show up when he feels the time is right.”

The drumming stopped, but Jim could still hear whispered chanting, though he couldn’t make out the words. Wasn’t sure he’d understand them even if he could. For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, in that heavy lull before the evening’s events began. Outside, the wind picked up and they could all hear the creaking of the barely greening tree branches in the back yard. Jim heard a vehicle come to a stop on the street outside, and he waved Simon into hiding. Even before the doorbell rang, he felt that odd frisson, that ripple of negative energy, as if the very air was thinner. He and Blair hastened into the dining room, standing to either side of the wide entranceway, out of sight, as William strode to the front door. They listened as William greeted his unwanted guest.

“Mr. LaForce, come in. Can I take your coat?”

“Thank you, but I’ll keep it; I doubt I’ll be staying long. You have a beautiful home.”

“Mm,” William muttered and then led the sorcerer into the living room, gesturing him toward a chair. “Please, have a seat.” Settling upon the sofa near the back hall entryway, he got straight down to business. “When you called, you made reference to a project that I thought was secret. How did you get past our surveillance equipment?”

Laughing easily, charmingly, Maxim drawled, “Oh, I have my ways of getting in and out of locked and secure places without being seen, but you don’t need to know what they are.” His voice hardened as he went on, “You only need to concern yourself with what I do with the information. Your competitors would pay handsomely for what I know.”

“Ah … yes, I suppose they would,” William replied dryly. “What’s this going to cost me?”

“Well,” LaForce returned, his tone now cold, “normally, I’d ask for a forty percent share in your business and sixty percent of all that you make while we’re, uh, partners. But, alas, you’ve attempted to deceive me, haven’t you? By pretending we’re alone, without witnesses. I can’t say I’m surprised but, still, you’ll pay a higher price. I kill those who betray me.” Raising his voice, he called, “I know you’re lurking in there, Ellison; you and your partner. Show yourselves.”

When they appeared in the broad archway and moved slowly into the room, LaForce smiled with smug satisfaction. “I knew you’d be here, that you’d be unable to resist coming to your father’s aid.”

“That so?” Jim taunted. “Well, we’ve just heard you threaten extortion and murder, so you’re under arrest. You going to surrender, or do we do this the hard way?”

“You’re a fool,” LaForce sneered contemptuously, unfazed by Jim’s bravado. “My little demonstration this morning should have proven to you that you can’t touch me.” Turning to Blair, he asked pointedly, “Have you been thinking about the choice I offered you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Blair allowed as he moved further into the room, drawing Maxim’s hungry gaze. Outside, the wind grew stronger, rattling the glass in the windows.

“And?”

“I’ll never surrender to you,” he said flatly.

“Oh, you will,” Maxim retorted, standing. “Let me show you why.” He turned toward William – only to find the sofa empty and Simon looming in the doorway. Startled, he grimaced in fury, and lashed out with one arm, fingers pointing at the big man’s chest.

Simon grunted and staggered against the lintel, clinging to it for support – and Jim rushed across the room to tackle LaForce, knocking him to the ground. With a roar of rage, Maxim turned his attention on Jim, shrugging him off as if he were a rag doll, and tossing him like flotsam across the room to crash into the far wall. But, by then, Simon was moving and he also grappled with the sorcerer, attempting to keep the man down long enough to cuff him.

But he fared little better, and was sent sprawling into the sofa, gasping for breath.

William was pulled into the room, quite obviously not of his own choice, his feet dragging on the carpet, seeking purchase, and he reached out to grip the lintel of the entryway, struggling to hang on, his resistance giving the others time to recover.

Blair took a step toward LaForce. “Stop!” he shouted.

“Sandburg, stay back!” Jim snarled as he pushed himself to his knees and, when he drew LaForce’s attention, William – pale and trembling – sagged to the floor. Holding his side, Simon staggered to his feet, panting for breath.

“You can’t stop all of us,” Jim grated, his arms out to the side as he resolutely paced toward the sorcerer.

“I’ll kill you all,” LaForce threatened, “long before you can stop me.”

“No, you won’t,” Blair interjected, his tone a low, dangerous growl. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Maxim laughed thinly. He waved his hand toward Jim and sent him careening back against the wall, then gestured toward Simon, who fell to his knees gasping for breath. Lightning split the night and the electricity flickered as thunder cracked and crashed above the house. “You haven’t the power to hurt me.”

“Ah, but, he does,” Ben Thundercloud called as he strode into the room. Dressed in a fringed white leather shirt, laced leggings and moccasins – all exquisitely beaded with symbols – and with feathers braided into his hair, he was an impressive figure. “Even if he doesn’t yet know how, I have the power to restrain you. _Together_ , you are no match for us.”

Jim and Simon were hurting, but were back on their feet, as was William. Slowly, they crowded closer, closing in a semi-circle around LaForce, hemming him in.

His eyes glittering with madness, Maxim roared with rage as he whirled, shooting visible bolts of killing energy toward Jim and Simon, but Blair and Ben, their hands up and palms out, hastily slid in front of the more defenseless men. As if hitting an invisible wall, the brutal stabs of pure, destructive energy ricocheted to the ceiling and disappeared.

“Stop!” Blair commanded again, panting with his effort to contain his hate and to feel pity instead for this deadly, merciless creature. LaForce flinched under his steady, resolute gaze and he stopped his attack.

“It is done,” Ben intoned, stepping closer. “The spirits will not allow you to defile this place. Nor will they permit you sway over these people. Your power has been constrained by the Great Ones, at least here, and for now.”

Teeth bared, Maxim stumbled back before the onslaught of their will. Narrowing his eyes, he rasped, “This is not over.”

“Yes, it is,” Jim panted, wincing as he leaned against the wall and fought for breath. “We got you on tape – your threats against my father’s life, your attempt at extortion, your admission to breaking and entering and theft. The consultant gig is up, LaForce. Once the morning news hits, you’ll be known a vicious, vindictive charlatan who is suspected of having his more lucrative and vulnerable clients killed for their generous bequests. The Attorney General will probably freeze your assets, pending investigations into the deaths of your benefactors. You’re finished here in the US, and you won’t be able to get away with your charade anywhere else.”

“The spirits cannot bind me forever,” Maxim howled furiously. “I will _not_ be denied.”

Jagged lightning flared, so close the air sizzled with electricity; the blasting crack of thunder that immediately followed sounded as if the roof was caving in. The lights blinked and went out; gale force winds howled and the front door crashed open. Maxim laughed eerily, closed his eyes – and disappeared.

Only to reappear in the portal from the front hall.

“Sonovabitch!” Jim cursed as he ducked away from an energy blast that would have driven him through the wall. Desperately, he fought his dials, straining to see in the darkness and hear through the chaotic howl of the wind.

Simon lunged for William and dragged him down, rolling him out of danger into the darkened hall beyond, narrowly escaping the blast directed their way.

Unprepared for the attack, off-balance, Blair whirled around, desperate to place himself between the sorcerer and Jim, and he was caught by another killing blast directed toward his partner. He staggered back, gasping at the searing pain that sang through his body, but he doggedly got his hands up and put everything he had into pushing back.

Chanting, Ben lifted his hands, but LaForce made a gesture in the air and the shaman staggered backward. “You bested my shade, but you are _no_ match for _me_ ,” the sorcerer crowed. “Stay back and stop that chanting or I’ll rip your heart out.” Teeth bared in a snarl, LaForce paced implacably across the wide room toward Blair. “I would have trained you,” he growled. “Made you great. But now, you fool, I’ll feed on you.”

Thunder again exploded with fearsome power. Jim, who had been reaching out with his hearing and sight, moaned as he doubled over, his hands clamped to his ears.

Woot howled and the panther screamed in rage as they materialized on either side of Blair. But LaForce barely glanced at them. “You dare summon the spirits?” he taunted Blair as he closed the space between them. “What? You want to see my lion in this realm? Want to see him rip your watchman’s throat out? You call down more than you can manage, young one. The power will consume you, eat you alive.”

Blair swallowed hard but he kept his hands up and fought to keep them from shaking. “Stay back, LaForce,” he commanded. “Leave this place.”

LaForce sneered and reached out …

Seeking to evade the sorcerer’s touch, Blair lifted his hands, fists clenched, toward the heavens even as he cried out in desperation, _“STOP!!!_ ”

A scream rent the night and there came the flapping of mighty wings. The eagle burst through the window, shattering the glass.

Blair dropped instinctively, ducking away from the flying shards, but LaForce was fully facing the razor-like missiles and glass fragments lacerated his face. The wind howled, ripping through the room. Thunder cracked in a tumultuous roar just as a streak of lightning sizzled through the broken window, exploding into the floor between Blair and LaForce.

The sorcerer, snarling in pain, stumbled back from the violent elemental forces. The eagle swooped toward him, screaming again as its talons raked LaForce’s face. Ben Thundercloud raised his voice in an eerie chant as he danced toward LaForce, resolute and unstoppable, forcing him, step by step, back into the hallway, back toward the door.

When Maxim tried to hold his ground, the shaman reached out, and fire, like molten gold, flickered on Ben’s fingertips. “You have no dominion here,” Ben rumbled, his voice low, compelling, and still calm – a counterpoint to both the raging violence of the storm and the hard, harsh drumming of rain slashing against the roof and windows. The fire leapt from his fingers, clawing at LaForce’s face, and the sorcerer whirled away as he lifted his hands to protect his eyes. “You have done your worst, used all the twisted energy within you, and failed,” Ben told him ruthlessly. “Your power is broken.”

“NOOOO!” Maxim screamed in rage as he wiped blood from his face, but Ben kept pacing toward him, inexorably.

“The spirits guard this house and all who stand against you here tonight,” Ben told him, relentlessly dancing forward, pressing LaForce back, step by step, toward the open doorway. “You cannot harm them – and you cannot have _him_. The spirits command you – be gone!”

Fire again leapt from his fingers and Maxim turned and fled the house, running out into the raw storm. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed, jabbing the ground behind him, hastening his stumbling run toward the car parked at the curb. While Ben stood in the doorway, watching, Maxim scrambled inside and, in seconds, the sedan was racing down the street and out of sight, disappearing into the swirling mist.

Closing his eyes, Ben Thundercloud lifted his hands toward the heavens and bowed his head. The wind dropped away and the rain stopped. The unnatural mist that had shrouded the street abated and was gone. Behind Ben, the lights of the house came back on.

Shaking, gray with strain, Simon helped William to his feet, and supported him back into the living room. Jim groaned as he pushed himself up and moved to Blair, who was standing surrounded by the remains of the shattered window, facing the hallway, hands lifted and arms outstretched as if he was shoving something – or someone – away. He could have been a statue but for the fine tremors Jim could see rippling through his body.

“He’s gone, Chief,” Jim said reassuringly as he reached out to grasp his partner’s shoulder. “He’s gone.”

Gasping for breath, unnerved and exhausted by the chaotic battle, Blair slowly let his arms drop to his sides and, even more slowly, turned his head to look at Jim. Pale and haggard, he looked as if he was about to speak – when his knees buckled and he collapsed.

“Blair!” Jim cried out as he caught him and lifted him away from the shattered glass. He took two steps and then Simon was by his side, to help him ease Blair to a clear space on the floor.

At the sound of Jim’s cry, Thundercloud wheeled around and ran back into the living room. Simon and William looked on helplessly as Jim cradled Blair in his arms. Dropping down beside them, Ben reached out and laid his hands on Blair’s brow and body. Closing his eyes, he chanted under his breath for what seemed a long time. When he stopped, there was utter silence in the room.

Jim looked up at him, fearful appeal in his eyes. “What happened?” he demanded. “Will he be all right?”

“He reached beyond his limits,” Ben replied warmly, a proud smile playing around his lips. “And he wore himself out. But he did well. And he’ll be fine. Just needs to rest a bit longer and catch his breath.” Fondly, he laid his palm on Blair’s shoulder. “He has potential, this one. The spirits favor him.”

Jim swallowed hard and allowed himself to breathe again. When Blair had fallen, he’d been afraid … but he caught the thought and buried it, refusing to even admit the possibility of what he couldn’t bear to contemplate.

In his arms, Blair stirred and mumbled something unintelligible. He sniffed and blinked, squinting against the light. Looking up and around, he blinked again and offered a tentative, reassuring smile to Jim. And then he looked at Ben Thundercloud, and he gaped at the shaman. He hadn’t noticed before. Too much had been going on; his concentration on LaForce had been too focused. But now he saw the buckskin medicine shirt painted with symbols – and the eagle feathers tied into Ben’s long, black hair. “The Eagle,” he gasped, reaching out to the shaman.

Chuckling, Thundercloud took his hand and, with Jim’s help, drew Blair up onto his feet. “You have much to learn, young one,” Ben chastised him gently. “The spirits don’t lie – and they don’t make promises they don’t intend to keep. You need to have more faith in your visions. But, perhaps, first you need to believe more in yourself.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Blair stammered, feeling shaken and still unsteady on his feet. Glad of Jim’s strong support, he looked around, first at the others, to ensure everyone was alright, and then at the room itself, which – except for the shattered window – was entirely undamaged. Bewildered, he glanced at Jim, who shrugged and shook his head, having no answers, and then Blair looked again at the shaman. Gesturing at the walls and ceiling, he said, “I thought this place was trashed in the battle – but … but it’s like nothing happened.”

Ben shrugged. “Had LaForce wanted to, he could have pulled this house down around our heads. But he can only focus on one command at a time. He was trying to wound and kill, so his power held no danger for the walls.”

“And the lightning?” Simon asked, though his tone was reluctant, as if he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

“Came in response to Blair’s invocation,” Ben murmured as he studied the young shaman before his gaze again wandered the room. “Still, we’re lucky LaForce didn’t succeed in inflicting more damage.”

“Lucky?” William echoed as he looked around and then focused on each of the others in turn. “I don’t think luck had much to do with it. Seems we have your spirits to thank.”

Smiling broadly, Ben replied, “They are not only _my_ spirits.”

Simon rolled his shoulders and winced a little at the aching of his body. “Well,” he said, “it’s late and time I was getting home. I still wish there’d been a way to take him and lock him away, but I guess that just isn’t possible. Thanks, Ben, for chasing LaForce outta here.”

“You think he’ll be back?” Jim asked warily.

“Oh, probably, after he’s licked his wounds,” Thundercloud replied pragmatically. “But not tonight. Maybe not for a long time.”

“We need to be better prepared the next time,” Jim said flatly. “This felt … too close. For a while there, I wasn’t sure who was going to win.”

“Defeating one like him is not an easy task,” Ben agreed. “It was necessary to overwhelm his spirit avatar, and draw him personally into the conflict. You all played your parts well; overwhelming his ability to control events from a distance and drawing him inside where Blair and I could work our own power directly against him. But Simon is right. We’re all tired and should call it a night. Soon, though,” he went on, his penetrating gaze finding Blair’s, “you need to decide. The time has come to either follow your path or walk away from your powers.”

“I know,” Blair murmured humbly, conscious of the words that echoed with those in his vision. “Would you help me?”

“Us?” Jim interjected.

Nodding solemnly, the shaman reached out to grip their shoulders as he replied, “When you’re ready, Wolf can tell you where to find me. But this cannot be a choice born of desperation, because you fear his return,” he cautioned soberly. “Choose for the right reasons, or you will lose your way. Choose for the wrong reasons, and you risk your souls.”

**

Later, too wired to sleep, they rested shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the skylight.

“I don’t know what to do,” Blair sighed and impatiently pushed errant curls off his face. “And I don’t understand what he meant. Choose for the right reasons … the wrong reasons. Choose what? A normal life? If I choose that, for the wrong reasons, does that put our souls at risk? Or is it just if I choose to follow the shaman’s path for the wrong reasons? Like fear or … or hate?”

Grimacing, Jim shook his head. “Don’t ask me,” he muttered aggrievedly. “I’ve never been much good at figuring out this cryptic shit.”

“I can’t keep putting it off, Jim,” he replied restlessly. “Look at what almost happened. Some power I’m not even aware I’ve got attracts a monster like LaForce – and we were just damned lucky that –”

Rolling onto his side, Jim pressed his fingertips against Blair’s lips. “Shh,” he consoled. “You heard Dad, and Ben. It wasn’t all luck. The spirits love you.” Grinning in the darkness, he tweaked Blair’s nose and teased, “Though God knows why.”

Snorting, Blair reached up to caress his lover’s lightly-stubbled cheek. “I mean it, Jim,” he insisted. “I have to decide soon.”

“ _We_ have to decide soon,” he corrected, but gently. “We’re in this together, remember?”

“Yeah,” Blair agreed and smiled with warm affection at his partner. “Thanks. ‘Cause I couldn’t ever do it alone.”

“Well, neither could I,” Jim retorted dryly. “Good thing we don’t have to,” he rumbled as he bent his head to lightly brush Blair’s lips with his own. “Soon, okay, I agree; we need to decide soon. But not now. It’s a matter of being clear on our priorities, Chief. Tonight, the priority is to celebrate the fact that we’re both still alive.”

Blair’s smile widened when Jim shifted and he felt Jim’s desire for him press insistently against his leg. “You gonna take me to Nirvana again tonight?” he asked, his tone sultry, as he caressed his lover’s body.

“Nah, not tonight,” Jim murmured against his lips as his hand stroked possessively along Blair’s body, to rest on his hip. “Tonight, I think I’ll just take you as far as the stars.”

 

 _Finis_

 **_Author’s Notes: Photos of Chief Dan George have been used to represent Ben Thundercloud. Readers may remember his pivotal role in the brilliant movie, Little Big Man, with Dustin Hoffman. Maxim LaForce is represented by a likeness of Jay Silverheels, the actor who played the beloved Tonto to the masked man known as The Lone Ranger. The photos were borrowed from the Yahoo gallery. No disrespect of these fine men is intended. Rather, I mean this as a homage to two wonderful Canadian actors who were among the first to portray their people in strong roles in American television and movies._ **


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